Just and Loyal
by SageTelgar
Summary: While the school reels with shock and fear as students are Petrified, fourth-year Maisie Wood must also deal with an idiot professor, a rude Slytherin, and the hints of first love. Sequel to "You Might Belong in Hufflepuff," but you don't need to read it to understand this. Sequel "Hufflepuffs Are True" in progress. Cedric/OC
1. Prologue: Author's Note

**A/N: This is my second Harry Potter fic, and it is a direct sequel to "You Might Belong in Hufflepuff." I'd highly recommend reading the first one (views/reviews give me joy) but if for some reason you've decided to skip it, here's what you need to know:**

 **Maisie Wood is Oliver Wood's younger sister. She's in the same year as Lee Jordan, her childhood neighbor and friend, and of course the Weasley twins. Maisie is in Hufflepuff, and she's very proud of that fact. She plays Beater for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, but she aspires to someday play Seeker (the position currently held by Cedric Diggory). Maisie and her Hufflepuff friends often join Lee and the twins on nighttime adventures through the castle and grounds.**

 **Maisie's best friends in Hufflepuff are Bryony Griffiths, who plays Chaser; Pippa Bailey, a Muggleborn whose brother Hamish is in Harry's year, but in Ravenclaw; Owen Powell, who plays Beater; and Jimmy Graham, a reserve player. Other notable Puffs include Leah Dixon, Keeper and prefect; Cedric Diggory, Seeker and prefect; Callum Webb, Chaser and fifth year; Archie Ford, Chaser and seventh year; and Jasper Murray, a shy, smart boy in Maisie's year.**

 **At the end of last year, Maisie and Oliver's parents decided to move the family to Ottery St. Catchpole. Mum is taking a step back from her high-pressure career at the Ministry, and Dad wants to be a farmer. This means, of course, that Maisie now has the Weasleys and the Diggorys as neighbors. And that's where our story picks up again…**


	2. Summer 1992: A New House

The farmhouse was attached to the old barn, which had been converted into an immense, flagstone kitchen by the previous owners (Muggles who'd fancied themselves interior designers). Above the kitchen was the master suite, with enormous windows cut into the slope of the barn's roof which faced north and south. The farmhouse was old, with narrow staircases and low doorways. Maisie's new bedroom was smaller than her old one, but it had a window seat that overlooked the pond, partially shaded by an oak tree with a rope swing dangling from its lowest branch.

Maisie loved it.

Her summer holidays so far had consisted of packing, cleaning, moving, cleaning again, unpacking, and arranging. Levitation charms made moving heavy furniture easier, but no less frustrating to maneuver around tight corners and through narrow spaces. It took Mum and Dad the better part of the morning to get the sofa into the den, both swearing fluently.

Meanwhile, Maisie and Oliver wrestled their mattresses up the stairs. Oliver's bedroom was on the front of the house, with wide, sunny windows and built-in bookshelves. Maisie envied Ollie his bookshelves, but she loved her window seat too much to complain. The bathroom, an afterthought installed in the sixties, was next to Maisie's bedroom. The toilet was quite loud.

They worked by lamplight as night fell. The kitchen was an unholy mess. Dad stood amid a pile of boxes, arms akimbo, staring down the cast-iron stove.

"Look at this dinosaur," he said. "It's filthy. How can I get dinner on this?"

"I could run into the village and get sandwiches," said Mum. "There must be a pub or something."

Dad sighed. "I suppose that's what we'll have to do. Do we have any Muggle money?"

"No, we don't. I forgot to go to Gringotts." Mum sat down heavily on a box and put her head in her hands. "What are we going to do? We need dinner."

Someone knocked on the door.

"Blimey, who could that be?" said Oliver.

"I'll get it," said Maisie, who was nearest the door.

"Mays, no," said Dad. "It could be anybody." He awkwardly swung his leg over a box. "Wait for me."

But Maisie darted to the kitchen door and opened it. She was confronted by a mob of redheaded people. At the front of the mob were Fred and George Weasley.

"Oh, hello," said Maisie.

"We thought we'd come over and say hello," said Fred. "This is our mum. Mum, this is Maisie Wood."

"I've heard so much about you!" Mrs. Weasley engulfed Maisie in a warm hug. "It's lovely to finally meet you, dear. And this must be Oliver! My sons tell me you're an excellent Keeper!"

"I suppose I am." Oliver blushed. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Weasley."

Mr. Weasley—a tall, thin man—nudged his way through his crowd of offspring to shake hands with Maisie's parents. What little hair he had left was as red as any of his children's.

Fred nudged Maisie. When she turned her head, he leaned down and whispered, "Invite us in. We're like vampires."

Maisie laughed, and would have spoken up, but Mum said:

"Won't you come in? You'll have to excuse the mess; we've just arrived today."

"Yes, I know," said Mrs. Weasley. "That's why we're here. We've brought supper." She held up an immense, steaming pan. "And we thought you might like some help unpacking."

Mum flushed faintly. "That's too kind!"

The Weasleys crowded in. Mrs. Weasley knew stronger cleaning spells than Dad and had the stove up and working in a trice. Mr. Weasley went over the house with Mum and Maisie, exclaiming over the Muggle innovations.

"Look at all these eclectic sockets!" he said admiringly. "Why, you could light it up like noon in here!"

"Maybe we should," said Mum. "These oil lamps don't quite do the trick."

Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Weasley called them all back to the kitchen. The boys had wrestled the table into position, and moved the boxes, so there was room for everyone to sit. Dad found the dishes using a Summoning Charm, and Mrs. Weasley served up a steaming steak-and-kidney pie.

"This is delicious, Mrs. Weasley," said Maisie after her first bite. "You should give Dad some tips."

The Weasleys laughed while Dad pretended to be affronted.

"Oh, so you're the cook, Eddie?" said Mr. Weasley.

"Most of the time," said Dad. "Lyra always worked so much, it was just easier."

"So, what are your plans for the farm?" said Mrs. Weasley.

"We haven't quite decided yet," said Mum. "We're thinking of growing some non-magical crops—you know, corn and such—in addition to supplying St. Mungo's with medicinal supplies. Eddie's keen on raising mooncalves."

"Mooncalves, really?" Mr. Weasley laughed. "I remember meeting one in Kettleburn's class. Charming creatures."

"How is Kettleburn these days?" said Mrs. Weasley. "Maisie, I hear you take Care of Magical Creatures as well. How do you like it?"

How does she know that? Maisie wondered. "Um, yeah, it's brilliant. We all really like Kettleburn."

"He's a riot," said George.

Percy sniffed. "I always thought he lacked dignity."

"Was that before or after you almost flunked your O.W.L., Perce?" said Fred.

After dinner, the Weasleys overwhelmed the Woods' protests and helped clean up the kitchen before dispersing through the house to help unpack boxes and situate furniture.

The twins wanted to see Maisie's room.

"There isn't much to see right now, since it's not unpacked."

"Well, then, let's fix that," said George.

Together they assembled the bedframe, made the bed, hung curtains and pictures, shelved books, and filled the wardrobe. Joscelind's cat tree went in the corner between the bed and the window seat, and George artfully arranged a few pillows in the window seat itself.

"You should get a cushion for this," he said. "It'll be a brilliant place to read."

Fred was examining the contents of Maisie's bookshelf. "What are all of these, Mays? I haven't heard of half of them." He carefully slid one off the shelf and flipped through it. " _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe?_ "

"It's a Muggle children's book," Maisie said. "Mum likes to read Muggle novels, and she gives me some of her favorites. That one's about some children who discover another world in a wardrobe."

"Another world?" Fred snorted. "There's no such thing."

"No, but that's the point," said Maisie. "It's fantasy. Muggles might not have wands, but they still know a thing or two about magic."

Fred flipped back to the first page. "Can I borrow it?"

"Only if you swear to take care of it. Don't bend the cover or dog-ear any of the pages."

Fred looked at her, eyes wide. "Why, Maisie, what kind of barbarian do you take me for?"

"The kind who thought it would be funny to make it rain in the library?"

"Fair point." Fred tucked the book under one arm and placed his hand over his heart. "I, Fredrick Gideon Weasley, do solemnly swear to cherish and protect this book, belonging to one Margaret Muriel Wood, even at the risk of my own health and well-being."

"Muriel's not my middle name."

"Sorry, it was the worst girl name I could think of."

"What is your middle name, by the way?" said George. "Mine's Fabian."

"Daisy."

Fred chortled. "Maisie Daisy! That's brilliant!"

"It's better than Gideon!" Maisie rolled her eyes.

"We're named after Mum's brothers who died fighting You-Know-Who," said Fred. "Don't you feel like an ass now?"

"A bit." Maisie's face turned red. "Sorry."

"Don't sweat it," said George. "We never met them, anyway."

Ron poked his head in the door. "There you are. Mum says it's time to go. Hello, Maisie. Nice room. Is that a Holyhead Harpies pennant?"

"Yeah, Oliver got it for me. I think he fancies Gwenog Jones, but I don't care for the Harpies much. Mostly I support Puddlemere United."

"Oh," said Ron. "I like the Chudley Cannons."

"Yeah, I know. Fred told me."

Fred looked taken aback. "Oh, right. Wasn't that our first day on the train?"

"I think so," Maisie said. "Hey, Ron, how's Harry?"

Ron's face fell. "I don't know. He hasn't answered any of my letters. I hope those Muggles are treating him all right."

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Beats me." Ron shrugged. "Harry doesn't talk about them much, but I don't think they're very nice to him. At Christmas they sent him a fifty-pence piece—whatever that is—and he was really surprised that he actually got presents this year."

Maisie's heart sank. "That's terrible. Well, I hope he's okay."

"Me, too."

"Boys!" Mrs. Weasley called up the stairs. "Say your goodbyes! It's time to go!"

"We'll see you around." George gave Maisie a swift, tight hug. "Now that you and Oliver are around we have enough to actually play Quidditch. Scoring goals on Ronnie isn't much fun."

"Hey!" said Ron. "I save them sometimes!"

"I don't know," said Maisie. "Three Beaters and two Keepers doesn't sound like much of a game."

"We can Beat the Quaffle instead," said Fred. He waved the book in the air. "So, can I take this?"

"Only because you solemnly swore to care for it, even at the risk of your life."

"Cheers." Fred grinned cheekily. "I'll bring it back next week."

George and Ron left the room. Fred started to follow.

"Oi!" said Maisie. "Don't I get a hug from you, too?"

"Oh, right. Of course." Fred gave her an awkward, one-armed squeeze. "See you around, Daisy."

"Bye, Gideon."


	3. Summer 1992: A Noble Goal

Air conditioning was not included among the benefits of the new house, so Maisie slept with her windows open. The day was hot and sticky, and the darkness of night did not bring much relief.

Maisie was sprawled on top of her quilt, sound asleep, when a car drove by her second-story window. The noise of the engine and brightness of the headlights woke Maisie. Yawning, she staggered to the window and peered outside.

A blue Ford Anglia was doing a clumsy loop around the pond…thirty feet in the air. Maisie gawked. Muggle cars aren't supposed to do that, she thought. I must be dreaming.

The car finished its wide, awkward turn and came back toward the house. The headlights shone directly in Maisie's eyes, and she squeezed them tightly shut. This was clearly a dream, and the brightness was from the morning sunshine.

When she opened her eyes, however, there was still a car parked in midair by her bedroom window. Three freckled faces grinned at her through the windshield: Ron, George, and Fred Weasley.

"All right, Mays?" said Fred.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" said Maisie. "Where did you get that car?"

"It's Dad's," said George. "He loves Muggle stuff."

"Muggle cars don't fly," said Maisie.

"Dad likes to tinker with Muggle stuff," said Fred. "It drives Mum batty, and she doesn't even know about the enchantments. Care for a spin?"

Maisie hesitated. "Do I have to climb out the window?"

"We'll land it in the yard," said George. "Meet us out front."

The car trundled away. Maisie pulled her curtains shut; she didn't want the Weasleys to see her getting dressed. Shedding her ratty Puddlemere United T-shirt and sleeping shorts, she put on one of her new bras—Mum had finally conceded that Maisie had breasts—a tank top, and a pair of shorts. Carrying her trainers, she tiptoed out of her room and down the creaky stairs. Luckily, because Mum and Dad's room was in the other half of the house, it was unlikely that she'd wake them up.

Maisie unlocked the front door and stepped out into the balmy summer night. A slight breeze made her shiver, but she was glad for the relief from the heat.

The Weasleys' car was parked in the road with the headlights turned off. Maisie trotted across the lawn; George opened the door for her, and the boys scrunched together to make room.

"This is brilliant," said Maisie. "I didn't know you could drive, Fred."

"He can't," said George.

"Well, I'm better than you, aren't I?" said Fred.

"That's not hard," Ron said.

"So, where are we going?" said Maisie. "We could drive down to the river and go swimming."

"Tempting, but not tonight," said Fred. "We have a nobler goal in mind."

"A rescue mission," said George.

"What?"

"Harry hasn't answered any of my letters," said Ron, "and I've written him loads of times. We're going to the Muggles' to check that he's all right."

"Wouldn't it be better to do that in daylight?"

"We don't want to meet these Muggles, Mays," said George. "They sound like an unpleasant lot. No, we just want to check that Mr. Potter is alive and well, and spirit him away if necessary."

"All right," said Maisie. "If you guys are really worried, I trust you. Do we know how to get there?"

"See, there's the rub," said Fred.

"I have his address," said Ron. "But we have no idea how to get there."

"So what do we do?"

"We found this in the little box in the dashboard." George handed Maisie a road map. "And we thought we might enlist your help in reading it."

"Why me?"

"You're taking Muggle Studies."

"So are you two!"

"Yeah, but Fred needs to drive," said George.

"Besides," said Fred, "did you really want to miss out on this?"

Maisie gave a long-suffering sigh. "No, I guess not. All right, then. What's the address?"

Ron rattled off: "Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

"Surrey's easy," said Fred. "I know how to get to London from here, and Surrey's on the west side of London. But beyond that I've no clue."

"You start driving, then," said George, "and Mays and I will figure this out."

"Lean back, everybody," said Fred. "I have to go fast to get a takeoff."

Ron obediently leaned far back in his seat, which made the other three laugh. Ron's ears turned red.

Fred stepped on the gas, and the little car sped off down the road.

Maisie shrieked and clutched George's arm. "I hate cars!"

"How do you know about cars?" said Ron.

Maisie didn't answer because she was screaming; Fred flipped a lever, and the car lurched into the air. The trees lining the road became a dark green blur as they gained speed.

"Fucking Christ, Mays, calm down!" said Fred. "It's just like flying a broom."

"How is this like flying a broom?! I can't control it, things are rattling—is that normal?"

"It's just the transmission," said George.

"But it's supposed to make that noise?"

"It's an old car," said Fred. "It makes odd noises. It's fine, I promise."

George pried Maisie's hand off his arm and put that arm around her comfortingly. Maisie reluctantly relaxed. The warm weight of George's arm was welcome because of the wind rushing through the windows.

"Let's have a look at the map, then." George unfolded it across their laps. "We're over here, in Devon, and Surrey is over here…all right, Fred, west and a bit south."

Fred consulted the compass in the dashboard, twiddled the wheel, and increased their speed. "We've got to hurry if we want to make it back before Mum wakes up."

"Your parents don't know you have the car?" said Maisie in alarm.

Fred snorted. "Do your parents know you snuck out to ride in a flying car?"

"Fair point."

From their altitude, they could already see the distant glow of London and its suburbs. Fred kept the car above the clouds, for the most part, dipping below occasionally to check that they were still on course.

They drove for two hours. George and Maisie pored over the map and found Little Whinging, and Maisie triumphantly located Privet Drive in a Muggle subdivision. Before long they were coasting over a neat, quiet street lined with small, square houses that all looked exactly alike.

"How do we know which house is which without going down there?" said Fred.

"We count," said Maisie. "If number one is that one, then number four is—there."

"And what if number one is on the other side?" Fred was gripping the steering wheel very tightly.

"Then it's that one." Maisie pointed.

"So we don't know which is which," said Fred tersely.

"We'll just have to check them both!" Maisie snapped. "Have you got any better ideas?"

"Here's one," said George. "Stand in the middle of the road and shout, 'Harry Potter! We've come to take you away from these horrible Muggles!' That'll bring him out."

"Yeah, him and every Muggle on the block." Ron laughed nervously.

"There's nothing else for it," said George. "We have to check them both, like Mays said. C'mon, Freddie, we're almost there."

"Yeah, all right," said Fred. "Just give me a second."

He drove slowly down the street, as low as he dared, and they peered at the houses in the dim light of the street lamps. Maisie's first guess turned out to be right.

"This is so dangerous," Maisie said. "The car's too loud. Anybody could look out the window and see us!"

"Not at this time of night," said Fred confidently. "Muggles are used to cars driving by. They won't stir."

"Any idea where Harry's room is, Ron?" said George.

"It's the smallest bedroom."

"So, back of the house, probably?" said Maisie.

"Let's try it." Fred drove around the house. The back garden was innocuous and neatly pruned, with a patio and small sunroom.

"This is nice," said Maisie.

"You sound surprised," said George.

"You kept talking about how mean these Muggles are. I was picturing an ominous shack with overgrown briars, or something."

Fred chuckled.

"That window has bars on it." Ron pointed. "None of the others do. I bet that's Harry's room."

"You're not serious," said Maisie. "They've locked him up?"

"It would explain why he hasn't answered any of my letters."

"Good point," said Fred. "Let's check it out."

He carefully back the car up to the house, and Ron clambered into the backseat to get a closer look.

"I see Harry! He's asleep."

"Well, of course he's asleep, you dolt," said Fred. "Wake him up."

Ron leaned out the back window and rattled the bars on Harry's window.

"You'll wake the Muggles!" Maisie hissed.

"Am I waking him up or keeping quiet? I can't do both."

The dark-haired boy on the bed stirred, blinked, and sat up. He squinted dazedly out the window; it took a moment for Ron's presence to register on his face. Harry staggered to the window and slide it open.

"Ron!" Harry gaped at the sight of the flying car. "How did you…?"

"All right, Harry?" said George, grinning.

"Why haven't you answered my letters?" said Ron. "I've asked you to stay about twelve times, and then Dad said you'd got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles—"

"It wasn't me!" said Harry. "How did he know?"

"He works for the Ministry," said Ron. "You _know_ we're not supposed to do spells outside school!"

"You should talk." Harry gestured to the floating car.

"Oh, this doesn't count," said Ron. "We're only borrowing this. It's Dad's. We didn't enchant it. But doing magic in front of those Muggles you live with? Are you mental?"

"I told you, it wasn't me! But it'll take too long to explain—can you tell Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won't let me come back, and I can't magic myself out, because the Ministry'll think—"

"Stop gibbering," said Ron. "We've come to take you home with us."

"But you can't magic me out, either."

Ron jerked his head toward the front seat. "You forget who I've got with me."

"Mays, help me with this." George reached into the backseat and heaved on a coil of rope.

Maisie helped him hoist it to the window. Ron tossed an end to Harry.

"Tie that around the bars," said Fred.

Harry complied, laughing nervously. "If the Dursleys wake up, I'm dead."

"Don't worry," said Fred, "and stand back. Mays, George, Ron—hold on to something."

Ron braced himself against the backseat. Maisie and George wrapped their arms around each other. Fred stomped on the gas, and the engine revved. For a moment they didn't move, and the engine revved louder. The bars ripped away from Harry's window with a loud crunch, and Fred drove the car straight up in to the air. Maisie clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from screaming.

The bars dangled from the car, thirty feet below. Ron leaned out the back window and pulled on the rope.

"It's too heavy," he wheezed.

"I'll help." Maisie clambered clumsily into the back seat. One of her trainers clipped Fred's head.

"Oi! Watch it, Mays!"

"Sorry." Maisie grabbed the rope behind Ron. "C'mon, Ron, pull!"

Together, they managed to get the window bars through the window of the car. Fred carefully backed the car as close to Harry's window as possible.

"Get in," said Ron.

"But all my Hogwarts stuff—my wand, my broomstick—"

"Where is it?"

"Locked in a cupboard under the stairs, and I can't get out of this room."

"Not a problem," said George. "Out of the way, Harry."

"Mays, take the wheel," said Fred, sliding over. "Hold her steady."

The twins clambered through Harry's window. Harry watched them pick the lock on his bedroom door.

"Most wizards think it's a waste of time, knowing these Muggle tricks," said Fred, "but we feel they're worth learning, even if they're a bit slow. Right, Mays?"

Harry looked out the window and say Maisie. "Er, hello. Who are you?"

"Maisie Wood. Oliver's my brother."

The door to the bedroom swung open. The twins exchanged a quiet high-five.

"Fred and I will get your trunk," George whispered. "You grab anything you need from your room and hand it to Ron."

"Watch out for the bottom stair," said Harry. "It creaks."

Harry scrambled around his room, and handed things out the window to Ron. A pile accumulated in the backseat, consisting mostly of dirty laundry. Maisie wrinkled her nose at the smell.

Harry helped the twins lug his trunk up the stairs. All three were breathing heavily by the time they got it into the room. The hoisted it onto the dresser by the window.

"Right," said Fred. "I'll get back in the car and pull with Ron. You two push."

Fred wormed into the backseat, and the trunk edged out the window.

"Merlin's ass, this is heavy." Fred panted. "What've you got in here, Harry?"

"Just my books, cauldron, broomstick, and my robes." Harry was breathing heavily. Sweat beaded around the forked-lightning scar on his forehead.

"Oh, is that all?" George chuckled breathlessly.

"Let me help." Maisie put the car in park and set the parking brake—she'd learned that much from her time at Pippa's house. She cautiously took her hands off the wheel; the car stayed put.

"No, Mays, it's too heavy," said Fred.

"I'm bigger than Ron and Harry, and I'm a Beater to boot. Budge over, Fred."

She slithered gracelessly into the backseat.

"Almost there," said Fred through gritted teeth. "One good push."

The trunk suddenly slid into the car, knocking Maisie and Fred backwards. The trunk pinned Maisie against Fred, who was hot and sweaty.

"Ew!" Maisie squirmed. "Get it off!"

They pushed the trunk away, and Maisie and Fred scrambled back into the front seat. George climbed through the window with relative grace. Harry was halfway through the window when an owl screeched.

"THAT RUDDY OWL!" bellowed someone down the hall.

"I've forgotten Hedwig!" Harry turned away from the window and dashed across the room.

"Hurry, hurry!" said Maisie as the landing light clicked on.

Harry snatched a cage containing a beautiful snowy owl and ran across the room to stuff the cage through the window. He was climbing the windowsill when the door crashed open, revealing the fattest man Maisie had ever seen.

The fat man roared with rage and dove across the room, grabbing Harry's ankles.

"Petunia! He's getting away!"

"Step on it, Fred!" yelled Ron.

Fred slammed on the gas, and the car shot away so quickly that Fred had to pull hard on the wheel to keep them from crashing into the neighbor's hedge. Maisie clutched the seat and squeezed her eyes shut.

"See you next summer!" Harry yelled out the window. The Weasleys laughed.

Fred patted Maisie's knee. "It's okay. We're away."

Maisie opened her eyes. They were coasting above the clouds again. George climbed over the seat and settled in next to Maisie. Ron and Harry occupied the backseat with all of Harry's things. Maisie hadn't thought that Muggle cars were so large inside; perhaps Mr. Weasley had done something to it.

"Let Hedwig out," Harry said. "She hasn't had a chance to stretch her wings for ages."

A minute later, Harry's snowy owl soared out the window of the car and glided joyously alongside them.

"So, what's the story, Harry?" said Ron. "What's been happening?"

Harry told them: a house elf had come to see him and warned him against returning to Hogwarts. This house elf—Dobby—had been confiscating Harry's letters all summer. The elf framed Harry for a Levitation Charm, and Harry's family had locked him in his bedroom.

"Very fishy," said Fred.

"Definitely dodgy," said George. "So he wouldn't tell you who's supposed to be plotting all this stuff?"

"I don't think he could," said Harry. "Whenever he got close, he started banging his head against the wall."

Fred and Maisie glanced at each other. George made a disbelieving noise.

"What? You think he was lying to me?"

"Yes," said Maisie bluntly.

"The thing about house elves," said Fred, "is that they can't do anything without their master's permission. I reckon somebody sent Dobby to stop you coming back to Hogwarts. Somebody's idea of a joke."

"Draco Malfoy," said Harry. "He hates me."

"You don't mean Lucius Malfoy's son?" said Maisie.

"It can't be a very common name," said Harry. "Why?"

"I've heard Mum talking about him," Maisie said.

"Dad's mentioned him, too," said George. "He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who."

"When You-Know-Who disappeared, Lucius Malfoy came crawling back, swearing he'd never meant it. Load of shit," said Fred.

Maisie nodded vigorously. "Mum thinks he was right in You-Know-Who's inner circle."

"I don't know whether Malfoy owns a house-elf," Harry said.

"Whoever owns him is an old, rich Wizarding family," said Fred.

"Mum's always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing," said George. "But we've just got a ghoul in the attic and gnomes in the garden. House-elves come with big old manors and castles; you wouldn't catch one in our house."

"By the way, when do I get to see your house?" said Maisie.

"Not today," said Fred. "We're dropping you off before we go home."

"But you can come over any time," said George. "Bring Oliver and your broomsticks. We can play Quidditch in the paddock. You, too, Harry."

"Great!" said Harry. "I've got my Nimbus in the trunk. So, does your dad know you have the car?"

"Um, no," said Ron. "He had to work tonight. Hopefully we can get it back in the garage before Mum notices it's gone."

"If you guys get in trouble—" Maisie started, but Fred cut her off.

"No way we're ratting you out, Mays."

"That's not what I was going to say!" said Maisie hotly. "I know you guys wouldn't do that."

"Sorry, sorry. What were you going to say?"

Maisie grinned. "If you guys get in trouble, I'll come rescue you—but I'm coming on foot."


	4. Summer 1992: A Quidditch Practice

Cedric Diggory came to at the Woods' house promptly at one o'clock, as agreed, with his broomstick over his shoulder. Maisie and Oliver weren't expecting him to be so punctual; they scrambled to lace their trainers and get their box of Quidditch balls.

"I didn't know you guys had real Quidditch balls—here, Maisie, let me take that. We have to be really careful with those; Muggles in the village might see."

"Damn, I never thought of that," said Oliver. "Should we just play with a Muggle football?"

"Or if you have something Snitch-sized, we can throw that to each other."

"We have plums," said Maisie. 

"That'll work."

Maisie fetched a handful of plums from the kitchen, Oliver found their football in the shed, and they set out for the field. Harry Potter and the Weasleys met them there.

"Hello!" said Cedric genially, shaking hands all around. "I'm Cedric Diggory. You guys had a great Quidditch team this year."

"That's thanks to Oliver," said Fred.

"And Harry, of course," said George.

"You're quite the flier, Harry," said Cedric. "How long have you been flying?"

"Just started," Harry said. "Last year."

"You're joking!"

"I lived with Muggles my whole life."

"But still—" Cedric stopped at George's slight shake of the head. "You've got a lot of natural talent."

Harry shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Thanks."

"So, shall we?" said Oliver. "We brought plums to use as Snitches, and we have a Muggle football to use as a Quaffle."

"Brilliant," said Fred, throwing a leg over his broom. "Let's get to it."

They divided into teams: Maisie and Cedric against Fred, George, and Harry, with Ron and Oliver as Keepers. It was obvious that Harry had never played as a Chaser before, but he was quick on his broom and had good reflexes.

Ron was a good Keeper, but not as good as Oliver, and the Weasley twins were fast; they scored on their younger brother many times. Maisie and Cedric were hard-pressed to score on Oliver, especially with the twins and Harry blocking them at every shot.

When they called a brief halt, and everyone was chugging water, Cedric pulled Maisie aside.

"We have to change our tactics. "

"Isn't this how Watson has our Chasers practice?" said Maisie.

"Dan's my friend," said Cedric, "but he doesn't know the best way to instruct Chasers. I'll come up the middle, and you go around the outside, and score from behind when I toss it to you."

"That's how we scored on Gryffindor last year."

"I remember." Cedric smiled at her. "Do exactly what Bryony and Callum did, and we'll score a few times."

"You ready?" Oliver called.

Maisie mounted her broom. "Let's do this!"

The other side had possession of the "Quaffle." Maisie flew straight at George, forcing him to roll aside to avoid her. George's grip slipped, and Cedric seized the opportunity to steal the ball.

Maisie zipped around the edge of the field and circled behind Oliver, who was guarding a makeshift goalpost made of fencing sections.

"Ollie!"

"I can't be distracted, Mays, so don't bother!" said Oliver without turning.

"What if I told you Angelina Johnson fancies you?"

"She does not!" said Oliver, but his head turned slightly. Cedric seized his opportunity to lob the Quaffle straight for the goal.

Oliver moved like a blur and snagged the Quaffle out of the air. "You'll have to try harder than that, Mays!" He tossed the Quaffle to Fred, who zoomed away.

Maisie took off in hot pursuit. The wind whistled in her face, drying the sweat and stinging her eyes. She was gaining on Fred.

As she pulled abreast of Fred, Maisie leaned hard, and her broom careened into his. Fred jostled her right back, almost knocking her off her broom, but Maisie held tight.

The goal rushed toward them. Ron's pale face was easily visible.

"You can do it, Ron!" Maisie yelled, trying to bump Fred again. He dipped his broom low to avoid her, and Maisie rolled over his head. The top of Fred's head clipped the tail of Maisie's broom. She somersaulted in midair, flying forward off her broom and hitting the ground.

Pain exploded in Maisie's face. For a moment, everything was black. She heard distant shouting. With great effort, she raised herself up onto her elbows. Her face had ploughed a short trough into the dirt. Her front was covered in dust.

"Maisie! Are you all right?" Cedric offered his hand to help her up.

Maisie stood slowly. Black spots swam across her vision; she staggered, wobbled, and fell against Cedric.

"That was a nasty fall. Maybe you should sit. Harry, get us some water."

The sound of Harry's trainers pounding away was soft and dusty. Maisie carefully sat cross-legged in the grass. Her head was spinning.

"Can you look at me?" said Cedric softly.

Maisie carefully raised her head, squinting against the bright light. "I'll be all right."

"Yeah, you'll be fine." Cedric gently brushed dirt off her face. "Something's bleeding, though. Does anything hurt?"

"Most things hurt."

Fred said, "Shit, Mays, I didn't mean to jostle you that hard."

"It was an accident, Fred. I'll be fine."

"Maisie!" Oliver landed nearby and tumbled off his broom. "Maisie, are you all right? Is anything broken?"

"I don't think—OW!" Cedric had brushed her nose. "Baybe by dose?"

"There's the blood," said Cedric. He stripped off his t-shirt and wadded it up. "We need to stop the bleeding until we can get you to an adult wizard."

"Mum's great with minor healing spells," said Ron.

Harry came jogging back and handed Maisie her water bottle. She didn't particularly want water, but she drank anyway.

"I wish you'd all stop fussing," she said, slightly muffled by Cedric's t-shirt. "It's just a bloody dose."

"It's a lot of blood, Mays," said George. "We'll take you back to ours—it's closer. Mum'll fix you."

"Let's do that," said Oliver.

George and Oliver helped Maisie to her feet, and they walked back to the Weasleys' house. Cedric carried Maisie's broom.

The Weasleys' house was nicknamed the Burrow, so Maisie expected something built into the side of a hill, like in _The Hobbit._ But it was a tall, ramshackle building that had the look of being cobbled together. It looked to be in danger of toppling over.

The boys took Maisie in through the kitchen door. The kitchen was crowded, but neat. A pan busily scrubbed itself in the sink.

"Mum!" Fred pushed past the others and ran up the stairs.

"Mum, where are you?" Ron peeked into the den. "Maisie's hurt!"

"Sit here, Mays." George guided her to the kitchen table. "I'll get you ice. Let Cedric make himself decent before Mum shows up."

"In a bloody shirt?"

"Ronnie, get Cedric something clean from the laundry," said George. "Anything of mine or Fred's will do."

Maisie put her cheek on the cool table. Fred was thumping around upstairs, slamming doors and calling for his mother.

"Don't do that, Maisie," said Cedric. "If you have a concussion, you shouldn't go to sleep."

"I'm not sleeping, I'm resting."

"Sit up." George handed her a wet rag wrapped around a chunk of ice. "Put this on your face."

Maisie groaned as she sat up, but the cool rag felt nice on her face.

"Want a drink, Cedric?" said George.

"Just water, thanks."

Ron came back from the laundry room and handed Cedric a clean shirt.

Fred thundered down the stairs. "Mum's not here. Percy, neither."

"I guess Mum's out shopping," said George, "and who cares where Percy is?"

"What do we do?" Oliver wrung his hands. "My sister's bleeding!"

"I'll be fine, Oliver," said Maisie. "Muggles use ice on broken noses all the time."

"I don't know, Mays." Fred peered into her face. "What if it heals crooked?"

"It's _fine._ I just want to lay down."

"But what if you have a concussion?" said Cedric.

"Who cares?!" said Maisie.

"We care!" said Cedric forcefully. "Look, guys, I know a spell that'll work. Can I borrow a wand?"

"You can't do magic outside of school," said Harry, aghast.

"You _shouldn't_ do magic outside of school," said Fred. " _Can_ is another matter entirely. Do you really know a spell, Cedric?"

"I wouldn't have said I did if I didn't."

"They'll catch you!" said Harry.

"Not here," said Ron. "The Trace catches underage magic, but in a house full of wizards, how can you really tell who cast a spell?"

"Even if they do find out," said Cedric, "my record's squeaky clean, and my dad works at the Ministry. I'll just get a warning."

"Cedric, no," said Maisie. "You can't risk getting in trouble. We'll wait for Mrs. Weasley, or we can go look for my dad."

"Maisie, you could be seriously hurt," said Cedric. "The longer we wait, the worse it'll get. I'll just do it. Bring me all your wands. I'll try a few and use the one that feels best."

The Weasleys scattered.

"What's the Trace?" said Harry.

"What do you mean?" said Maisie groggily.

"Oh, right, you grew up with Muggles," Cedric said. "The Trace is a spell on underage wizards. It detects underage magic, which is illegal, as you know. It breaks when you turn seventeen."

The three Weasleys returned with their wands. Fred had picked the lock on Percy's room and brought Percy's wand. Ron had grabbed Harry's. Cedric picked up each wand, searching for one that felt friendly in his hand, and settled on using Fred's.

The boys crowded around the table, watching Cedric anxiously.

"Um, can you back up a little?" said Cedric. "You're making me nervous."

Oliver sprang back as if touched by hot iron. "You heard him! Give the man some air!"

"Hold still, Maisie," said Cedric.

"I trust you, Cedric."

"Thanks." He leaned in and tapped her nose gently with the tip of Fred's wand. " _Episkey."_

Maisie yelped as her nose wrenched into place. Fresh blood flowed, but George was ready with a towel.

"How does it feel?" said Oliver anxiously.

Maisie gingerly touched her nose. "No pain. Does it look straight?"

"Straight enough," said George.

"Well done, Cedric!" Fred clapped Cedric on the back. "Bloody brilliant!"

"I hope it's worth it, if the Ministry finds out," said Maisie.

"It was," said Cedric, smiling. Maisie's heart fluttered slightly. Maybe that was a side effect of the spell.

The door opened, and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Percy came in, loaded down with shopping bags. When Mrs. Weasley saw the blood-stained rag pressed to Maisie's face, she shrieked and dropped the groceries.

"Maisie! What happened? How badly does it hurt? Should we go to St. Mungo's? I knew this would happen someday, you kids careening around on your brooms unsupervised—"

"Mum, she's fine. Just a little bloody nose," George lied smoothly.

"Then why are your wands out?" said Percy. "Hey, that one's mine!"

"Nothing to worry about, Perce," said Fred. "Just a good old-fashioned wand-measuring contest."

The boys laughed. Ginny and Maisie rolled their eyes. Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips.

"That's enough out of you, Fred. Put those wands away and help me with the groceries."

"We'll help, too." Maisie started to stand up, but Mrs. Weasley waved her away.

"Cool down, it's hot outside. Cedric, dear, do you want more water? Maisie, Oliver, tea?"

"Yes, please!" said Oliver fervently.


	5. Year 4: September 10, 1992

Bryony and Pippa liked to get to Lockhart's class early, so they could sit near the front. Maisie joined them ambivalently; she was unimpressed by Lockhart's teaching so far. His books had suggested a mastery of DADA—as it was affectionately called by students—that was so far not reflected in his class.

Today, Maisie lingered at breakfast as Owen and Jimmy shoveled sausages into their mouths, idly watching Cedric Diggory stir sugar into his tea. He caught her looking and smiled.

"All right, Maisie?"

"Yeah." Maisie looked away quickly. But no, that was rude. She turned back. "You?"

"Great, thanks. We've got Transfiguration this morning, Merlin help us." Cedric grimaced.

"McGonagall tougher than usual?"

"I'll say. She's got us convinced we're going to fail our O.W.L.s."

"I suck at Transfiguration." Maisie wished she could think of something better to say.

"No, you don't," Owen interjected, spraying Maisie with toast crumbs.

Cedric laughed.

Maisie dusted crumbs off her front, her face red. "Thanks, Owen."

"Any time." Owen winked clumsily.

"I should go." Cedric stood smoothly and swung his bag gracefully over his shoulder. "I'll see you at practice, yeah?"

"Yeah." Maisie thought her voice sounded incredibly soft and feeble.

"We should go, too," said Jimmy. "I doubt Lockhart would notice if we were late, but still."

"Wait for me!" Owen stuffed one last piece of toast into his mouth.

"You'd better be putting all that food to good use," said Maisie as they left the Great Hall. "I expect you to be at least seven feet tall by year's end."

Owen laughed.

They were almost late to DADA, slipping in just ahead of Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins.

The voluntary seating arrangement in Lockhart's class was interesting: most of the girls were at the front, while the boys filled the back rows first. This left the middle rows for latecomers. Maisie sat between Lee and George.

"All right, Mays?" said Lee.

"Yeah, good. You?"

"Wishing this class were more interesting." Lee made a face.

Angelina Johnson, who was sitting only two seats ahead, turned her head and said, "What are you talking about? Lockhart's classes are fascinating! He's done so much!"

Alicia Spinnet bobbed her head in vigorous agreement. Her headscarf today was Gryffindor red.

"He _says_ he's done so much," said Fred, who was sitting just behind Maisie. "I'm waiting to see the famously strong Impediment Jinx that stopped a band of trolls in its tracks."

"You actually read his books?" Lee snorted. "I'm returning mine at the end of the year. Bloody waste of my mum's bloody hard-earned money."

Lockhart swept into the room, an enormous eyesore in glittering blue robes, and began his autobiographical lecture on trolls. While the first few rows, including Bryony and Pippa, were rapt, the back of the room quickly lost interest. Jimmy folded and charmed a paper crane; he and Owen flew it between their desks with subtle twists of their wands.

Lee leaned across Maisie's desk to whisper to George: "When do you want to do it?"

"Do what?" said Maisie.

"Fred's got it in his bag," said George. "It's his call. He said he wants to wait until Lockhart's story gets really good, scare the crap out of the groupies."

Lee grinned.

"What's Fred got in his bag?"

"Just wait and see, Mays." Lee rapped her desk and leaned back in his chair. "Pay attention. This is riveting stuff."

The class dragged. Maisie wrote a letter to her parents, describing Lockhart's class; they'd been skeptical about the teaching qualifications of a celebrity. Maisie did little to settle those fears.

Lockhart finally reached the climax of his story: the encounter with a band of trolls. The number of trolls varied by the telling. Today, it was six.

"They came at me slowly, as trolls do, but they had me surrounded," said Lockhart. "I was nearly—nearly!—caught off my guard. But I am always prepared, wand always at the ready, especially when traveling alone in strange woods—and of course the poor locals had warned me of the danger, but I simply could not leave them alone to deal with this threat—"

Fred was rummaging in his bag. Maisie craned her head around to look, but she couldn't see anything.

There was a rustling on the floor. Something furry brushed against Maisie's leg.

"What the hell, Fred?" she hissed between clenched teeth.

"Just wait." Fred patted her on the shoulder.

The people in the front rows shrieked as the furry whatever-it-was made a beeline for the front of the classroom. Pippa screamed and jumped onto her chair.

"What is that?!"

"A Niffler!" said Fred joyously as the creature launched itself onto Lockhart's glittery, enticing robes.

Maisie laughed and clapped her hands.

Lockhart tumbled over, the Niffler on his chest. The girls in the front row squealed.

"You've got it, Professor!" Fred shouted over the hubbub. "Your wand is always at the ready! Give it a good strong Impediment Jinx!"

George clutched his sides, tears streaming down his face. Owen stood on his chair to get a better look. Maisie decided to follow suit, but she went all the way up to the top of her desk; she was short, after all.

"Oi, Mays, get down!" said Fred. "I can't see!"

"Get up here, then!"

Fred clambered onto Maisie's chair.

"I meant your own desk, idiot!"

"I'm here to catch you if you fall." Fred held out his arms.

The Niffler's shenanigans knocked over Lockhart's desk, throwing books, papers, and autographed photos every which way. The girls in the front rows scattered. Most of the class gathered in the back of the room, watching the spectacle.

"Won't someone help him?" said Pippa, wringing her hands.

"Nobody's stopping you, Pip!" said Owen.

Lockhart struggled to a sitting position, clutching the excited Niffler to his chest.

"Ah! I'm glad you got to see this!" he said. "The key to catching a Niffler is— _oof_ —speed and—ouch!— _dexterity_ —um, class dismissed!"

The Niffler escaped Lockhart's grip, but it had no interest in the students. It found Lockhart's gold pocketwatch and eagerly stuffed it into its pouch.

"Well done, Niffler!" said George.

"Where did you get that thing?" said Maisie.

"Kettleburn let us borrow it," Fred said.

"He let you take a Niffler to prank another teacher?"

"We didn't tell him what we wanted it for, did we? Said we wanted to hunt for treasure near the lake."

"And he believed that?"

"Not a chance!" Fred laughed. "Kettleburn's a clever old goat. He knew exactly what he was doing."

Maisie glanced at her watch; it was almost time to leave class. "We should do something."

"Like what?" said Fred.

"Didn't you have a plan for getting the Niffler out of here?"

"Figured Lockhart could handle it," said Fred. "Since he's such a DADA genius." He pronounced DADA the way someone else might say, "ta-da!"

"Obviously not," said Maisie.

"Oh, let him sort himself out," said Lee. "Show everybody what a bleeding fake he is."

"Maisie's right," said George. "Besides, that poor Niffler."

"Nah, it's having fun," said Fred, but he drew his wand. "Hold tight, Professor, I'm coming!"

Fred ran to the front of the room, flourishing his wand dramatically.

"Oh, be careful, Fred!" said Maisie dramatically.

"Never fear!" Fred was really getting into character. "Stand back, Professor!"

Lockhart tried to squirm away from the Niffler. Lee squeezed Maisie's hand tightly, shaking with suppressed laughter.

George put his hands over his eyes. "I can't look!"

Jimmy covered his ears. "I can't listen!"

Owen glanced at the other two, grinned, and put his hands over his mouth.

"I wish I had a camera," said Lee.

Fred raised his wand. " _Petrificus totalus!"_

For a moment, all was silent.

"Oops!" Fred laughed. "Sorry, Professor, I missed. Let me try again. _Petrificus totalus!"_ He grabbed the paralyzed Niffler by the tail and held it aloft like a trophy.

George and Lee led the class in raucous cheers.

"I'll just take this back to Professor Kettleburn," said Fred. "Can't imagine how the cheeky blighter got out, can you? Sorry again about the jinx. It should wear off before your next class. Have a good day, Professor Lockhart!"

The class poured into the hall. They were divided almost evenly between laugher and sighs of relief.

"That was close!" said Pippa. "Poor Professor Lockhart!"

"He was caught totally off guard," said Bryony. "Good thing you saved him, Fred."

"Thank you, ladies," said Fred. "It's too bad the good Professor didn't have his wand ready. We've got Care of Magical Creatures next; we'll give this little fellow back to Kettleburn." He patted the Niffler affectionately. "See you later!"

The Gryffindors went in one direction, and the Hufflepuffs tramped off to Transfiguration.

Owen threw a casual arm around Maisie. "That was brilliant! Fred's a bloody genius!"

"You don't mean Fred _unleashed_ that monster, do you?" said Pippa.

"It's just a Niffler, Pip," said Jimmy. "They're not dangerous."

Maisie threw Owen's arm off to rummage in her bag. "Lockhart was never in any real danger. It was just Fred joking around."

"What a mean-spirited joke," said Bryony.

"Maybe," said Owen, "but you can't defend Lockhart. We haven't learned a bloody thing from him!"

"I've learned loads!" said Pippa.

"Really? What have you learned so far?" said Owen.

For a moment, Pippa faltered. "I learned that you should use an Impediment Jinx to fight trolls!"

"All right. But do you know how to perform an Impediment Jinx?"

"I expect that'll be in a later lesson," said Pippa with dignity.

They arrived at Transfiguration. The fifth-year Hufflepuffs were just getting out, looking a bit befuddled, which was par for the course in McGonagall's class. Cedric was walking with a Slytherin girl. They were laughing about something.

Cedric spotted the fourth-year Hufflepuffs. "Hello, you lot! Good class with Lockhart?"

"Brilliant!" said Owen, grinning.

"You may want to get there quickly," said Jimmy. "Lockhart did hard battle with a Niffler and lost."

"A Niffler? Really?" Cedric shook his head. "He probably needs help. See you later, Cleo."

He hurried away.

"It's sweet how Cedric is nice to younger kids," said Cleo, smirking.

"We're hardly kids," said Maisie fiercely.

"We play Quidditch together," said Bryony. "No need to get jealous, Cleo."

Cleo opened her mouth to retort, but another Slytherin grabbed her by the arm.

"We're going to be late!"

"Move, Mudblood," said Cleo, nudging Bryony hard as she passed.

"Not a Muggle-born," said Bryony, but the Slytherins had already left.

"No need for that kind of language!" Jimmy yelled after them, slightly pink in the face.

"She was talking nicely to Cedric," said Pippa. "Why'd she turn on us?" She seemed less upset than Jimmy about the slur; then again, Pippa was still new to the wizarding world.

She might not know what Mudblood means, Maisie thought.

"Because we're competition," said Bryony.

Pippa shook her head. "I can't believe some girls think that way. Just let Cedric like who he will."

"Do you think he does?" said Maisie as they took their seats.

"Does who what?" said Bryony.

"Do you think Cedric likes someone?"

Bryony shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," said Maisie. "We're friends. He's my neighbor now."

"That's right, I'd forgotten," said Bryony. "Any chance we can come see the farm?"

"I'll ask Dad about having you to stay for Easter," said Maisie. "He'd love to show you the mooncalves."


	6. Year 4: Novermber 3, 1992

Evie poked her head into the third-year girls' room. "Cedric wants to know if you're ready to walk down to the Quidditch pitch."

Maisie was fussing with her hair. She wanted it braided away from her face, but not too severely (she hated her jawline; it was too square). The current braid was too loose and already half-undone. "Argh! Pip, can you help me?"

Pippa eagerly bounced off the bed. "It's hard to get the tension just right."

"I just don't want to look like McGonagall," said Maisie.

Bryony laughed. "I don't know. I bet McGonagall was a looker in her day."

Maisie snorted.

"What, you think she never let her hair down?"

"No. I bet that if she ever did take the pins out, the hair wouldn't come down; it would just stay put."

Evie was still hanging on the doorframe.

"Yes, Evie, we're coming!" said Bryony.

Ever since Halloween, when a flooded corridor and bloody writing on the wall had terrified the entire school, nobody went anywhere alone. The entire Hufflepuff Quidditch team walked to and from practice together.

"All right, I'm ready." Maisie grabbed her broom.

"I'll come, too," said Evie. "I want to watch."

"You shouldn't sit in the stands alone," said Pippa. "Let me grab my jacket."

They weren't the last ones in the Common Room; Owen stumbled in two minutes later, juggling his broom and robes.

"Somebody help him," said Watson, exasperated. "C'mon, let's go. We're losing daylight."

Maisie took Owen's broom while he struggled into his robes.

"Jimmy still in the Hospital Wing?" said Cedric, falling into step beside Maisie.

"Yeah."

"Great dolt got burned by a fire crab in Care of Magical Creatures," said Bryony.

"Happens to the best of us," said Cedric, smiling. "He'll be out soon, though?"

"I think so," said Maisie. "The skin's all grown back on his left hand, so that's something."

"He wanted a scar." Bryony rolled her eyes. "But no way Madam Pomfrey lets anyone walk out with a scar. You'll never be able to tell."

"He'll have to think of other ways to earn scars," said Cedric.

"Like actually tangling with a dragon," said Maisie. "Any chance that's on Kettleburn's curriculum for next year, Ced?"

Cedric laughed. "Not a chance! Kettleburn's tangled with enough dragons in his time. No way he's letting a bunch of bumbling students loose with one."

The Hufflepuffs made their way down to the Quidditch pitch, talking loudly and laughing to prove they weren't afraid. It was only four o'clock, but the sun was already beginning to set.

"Gosh, it's cold!" said Pippa. "I should have put on another jumper."

"Wait 'til after warmups and you can borrow mine," said Bryony.

The Slytherin team was still practicing, zooming around the field on their brand-new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. The brooms were the talk of the school: Lucius Malfoy had bought seven of the year's top brooms for the Slytherin team. Whether this was before or after his son, Draco, became Seeker was anybody's guess.

"Oi! Flint!" Of all the Hufflepuffs, Watson was least afraid of Marcus Flint. "It's our pitch!"

Flint blew his whistle, and the Slytherin team coasted to a landing.

"Those are nice fucking brooms," said Archie Ford.

The Slytherins dismounted in unison (did they rehearse that? Maisie wondered). They were enormous compared to most of the Hufflepuffs; except for Malfoy, who was a similar size and coloring to Pippa's brother Hamish.

"Hello, Hufflepuffs." Flint sneered slightly. "Pitch is yours. We're all done."

"Good of you, Flint," said Watson bitingly. "Looking forward to our match."

"That's not until spring, Watson. Plenty of time for us to train our new Seeker. He can outfly Diggory any day on his new Nimbus."

"I don't know," said Cedric in a pleasant voice. "A high-quality broom like that takes some skill to handle."

"You questioning my skill, Diggory?" said young Malfoy.

"Not at all," said Cedric in that same mild tone.

"He's just saying," said Ford in a similar manner, "that first-class brooms require first-class Quidditch players. Good luck against Gryffindor."

The Slytherin team left the pitch. Adrian Pucey, who was in Maisie's year, jostled both Maisie and Pippa on his way past.

"Whoops," he said. "Didn't see you there."

"Like hell he didn't," muttered Bryony as the Slytherins left. "That Pucey makes me so mad, I could—"

"Save it for the pitch," said Callum Webb, Bryony's fellow Chaser.

The spectating Hufflepuffs filed into the stands. Jasper, who in a rare show of sociability had joined the group, huddled together with Pippa and Evie for warmth. On the final lap of their warm-up, Bryony tossed her jumper to Pippa.

After practice, the fourth-years tramped up to the hospital wing to visit Jimmy. They were not his first visitors: Professor Kettleburn sat beside Jimmy's bed. They were playing wizard chess.

"All right, Jimmy?" said Bryony as they came in.

Jimmy was intent on the chess board. His entire left side—including his face—was swathed in bandages, which were emitting a strange, tangy smell.

"Poppy said he'll be released on Friday," said Professor Kettleburn. "It's a weight off my mind, I must say. Student injuries are a lot of paperwork. The more serious the injury, the more paperwork."

"What about when you get injured yourself?" said Jasper.

Kettleburn's eyes twinkled. "Oh, that's nothing, my boy. I signed a liability waiver when I was hired. Dumbledore insisted on it. He knows me too well, I'm afraid."

"It must have been an extensive waiver," said Jasper.

Jimmy moved a knight forward and took one of Kettleburn's bishops. "Ha!" He looked up. "Oh! Hello."

"Hey, Jimmy," said Pippa. "Feeling all right?"

"Yeah. It doesn't hurt much."

Kettleburn gave Jimmy a sidelong glance but said nothing.

"Who's winning?" Pippa leaned over the edge of Jimmy's bed.

"Me!" said Jimmy proudly.

Tutting, Kettleburn moved his other bishop halfway across the board. "I'm afraid not, my boy."

Jimmy gaped at the board. "God _dammit_ , Professor! I thought I had you that time!"

"Practice for another fifty years, Jimmy. Five points to Hufflepuff for a game well played." Professor Kettleburn stood up and collected his chess pieces left-handed; it was the only hand he had left. "And now I must away. The thestrals require attention before dinner."

"Do we get to meet thestrals in class, Professor?" said Maisie eagerly.

"Not until N.E.W.T. level, dear girl." Kettleburn smiled. "I hope I'll see you there? You need an 'E' or better to advance."

"We'll all be there!" said Bryony.

"I want to see a unicorn." Pippa clasped her hands together, looking for a moment like a Muggle statue of an angel. "Is it true they only like girls?"

"The adults, yes," said Kettleburn. "I have a hell of a time wrangling them. Some of them got out last year. Had to call in my sister all the way from Cork. She was miffed to miss her bowtruckles' breeding season. Bowtruckle mating rituals are certainly something to see. If all goes well, we can watch them in the spring." He waved cheerily. "Farewell, Puffs!"

When he was gone, Owen said, "Bowtruckle mating? What, like twig porn?"

Jimmy guffawed, but the girls rolled their eyes. Jasper said nothing.

"Has he come in here often?" said Bryony, sitting on the edge of Jimmy's bed.

"Once or twice. I think he feels responsible, but I told him it was my own stupid fault. I got distracted."

"How does a crab shooting fire out its ass not command your attention?" said Maisie.

The others laughed.

"I'll be really glad to be out of here," said Jimmy. "It's boring, and I haven't been sleeping well. The pipes make really odd noises; I never noticed it in our rooms."

"Probably 'cause we're underground," said Bryony. "You're not scared, in here alone, after what happened to Mrs. Norris?"

Jimmy snorted. "Because of what happened to a cat? Hell, nah. 'Sides, Madam Pomfrey sleeps in the next room. She'd come in a flash if I yelled."

As if summoned, Madam Pomfrey came into the ward. "Shouldn't you students get to dinner?"

The Hufflepuffs obediently turned away.

"Bye, Jimmy," said Pippa.

"Sleep tight," said Bryony in a spooky voice.

They went to dinner. Maisie, Bryony, and Owen were still in their Quidditch robes. The Great Hall was slightly more subdued than usual. Only the Slytherin table seemed unaffected.

The legend of the Chamber of Secrets had spread through the school like wildfire. Many students were skeptical, while others wanted to know why the other Hogwarts founders didn't have their own secret rooms. The running joke was that Godric Gryffindor had hidden an armory somewhere in the school.

"I bet Hufflepuff has a system of tunnels running all under the school," said Owen.

"Why tunnels?" said Pippa.

"Our symbol's a badger, isn't it? Badgers tunnel. Plus, our Common Room is basically a burrow."

"There are tunnels under the school," said Maisie. "That's no secret. I've been in some of them."

"With the twins?" said Bryony.

"Yeah. How'd you think they always have Honeydukes candy?"

"Speaking of Honeydukes," said Pippa, "remind me to buy Sugar Quills when we go to Hogsmeade."

"You expect us to remember that in a week?" said Bryony. "I can hardly remember when we have Potions!"

"Tomorrow morning," Maisie reminded her.

"Do you reckon the Chamber's real?" said Jasper.

"Of course not," said Owen. "It's just a legend, like the Warlock's Hairy Heart."

"That's a children's story, not a legend," Maisie said. "My dad always says that all stories are based in fact."

"Even Babbitty Rabbitty and Her Cackling Stump?" Owen laughed.

"C'mon, Owen, be serious."

"I am serious! There's no way that there's a secret room and a secret monster in a building that's a thousand years old. Somebody would've found it."

"Or," said Jasper, "because the building is a thousand years old, there are places that haven't been seen or touched in hundreds of years."

"I'm with Jasper," said Bryony. "The bloody staircases move on their own! Who knows what Hogwarts is hiding?"

Maisie shuddered. How horrible could something be to earn the title "Slytherin's Monster?"


	7. Year 4: December 17, 1992

The Dueling Club's first meeting was packed. Nobody wanted to miss Lockhart's demonstration, though expectations varied wildly. There was a rumor that Flitwick was going to teach them—he'd been a dueling champion—but it was brutally dispelled by Professor McGonagall.

"Professor Lockhart has volunteered to teach you all dueling." Professor McGonagall's voice took on a peculiar stiffness Maisie had never heard. "I trust you will treat him with the respect he deserves."

The Great Hall was specially cleared for the Dueling Club: the House Tables had disappeared, and a golden stage stood in front of the dais.

"Is this normal, in dueling clubs?" said Pippa.

"I don't know," said Maisie. "I've never been to a dueling club."

"Mum's in one," said Bryony, "but I'm not allowed because I'm underage. I'm surprised the school's allowed to do this."

"I'm not," said Owen. "Dumbledore can pretty much do what he wants, can't he?"

"Even Dumbledore has to—" Bryony began, but she interrupted herself when Lockhart strode onto the stage. "Oh, gosh, he looks amazing!"

Maisie and Owen traded amused looks. Lockhart wore plum-colored robes; possibly his most subdued clothing choice so far.

The assembled students murmured in surprise when Snape joined Lockhart on the stage.

"I didn't know Snape was a duelist," said Jimmy.

Lockhart dramatically waved his arm for silence. "Gather round! Can you all see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"

Fred tapped Maisie on the shoulder.

"How long before he does something jack-assed? We're taking bets."

"Not on your life," Maisie murmured out of the corner of her mouth. "I'll keep my money, thanks."

"You're no fun." Fred poked her in the ribs.

Maisie squeaked; several heads turned. Fred chuckled.

"All right, Mays?" George whispered in her other ear.

"Didn't know you were ticklish," said Fred.

"Stop it!" Pippa hissed. "We need to watch this!"

Lockhart and Snape stood at either end of the golden stage.

"As you see," said Lockhart, "we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position. On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"I wouldn't bet on that," muttered Harry Potter, who was standing nearby. Maisie caught Harry's eye and smiled.

"One—two—three!"

Lockhart's movement had too many flourishes, and Snape got his jinx in first: " _Expelliarmus_!"

There was a flash of red light, and Lockhart was violently flung backwards and smacked into the wall. More than a few students cheered.

"Is he all right?" Pippa stood on her tiptoes to see.

"Who cares?" said the twins in unison.

Lockhart staggered to his feet. His golden locks were mussed.

"There you have it! That was a Disarming Charm, well-executed…as you can see, I've lost my wand—ah, thank you, Miss Brown—an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was obvious what you were about to do. Had I wanted to stop you, it would have been easy—however, I thought it would be useful for the students to see…"

Snape said nothing, but his glower was darker than usual.

Lockhart cleared his throat. "Enough demonstration. I'll put you into pairs—Professor Snape, if you'll help me—"

"If Snape gets here first, he'll split us all up," said Bryony. "Let's go on this side."

"How?" said Maisie. "I can't move. How will we have room to practice dueling?"

Bryony was right: Professor Snape split up the fourth-year Hufflepuffs and paired them malevolently. Maisie was set to duel Adrian Pucey. To her left, Pippa was facing off against Cleo, the Slytherin fifth-year who fancied Cedric. The pairs were very close together.

Lockhart shouted to make himself heard. "Wands at the ready! When I count to three, cast your Disarming Charms—our aim is to disarm _only._ We don't want any accidents! Ready? One, two, three—"

The Great Hall exploded into cacophony. Over a hundred voices shouted " _Expelliarmus!_ " Some people missed their mark; others cast overzealously; dozens messed up the wand motion, which they'd seen only once and unexplained.

Adrian Pucey, however, cast his Disarming Charm neatly and effectively. Maisie's wand hand sung, and her wand soared away. Pucey caught it, smirking, but tossed it back to her immediately.

"Got to be faster than that, Wood."

Maisie caught her wand easily. "When'd you learn that charm, Pucey? Flitwick hasn't covered it."

"Snape says it's supposed to be on the Defense curriculum, but all our professors have been incompetent." Pucey sneered. "We've had a Slytherin dueling club since before I started here."

"Maybe Hufflepuff could join you?"

Pucey curled his lip. "You think we want Mudbloods and blood traitors in our dueling club?"

Red-hot rage surged through Maisie. She flicked her wand and shouted: " _Flipendo!_ "

The force of her jinx threw Pucey into the air. He landed heavily on his shoulders; only a little farther and he'd have landed on his head.

Pippa gasped, hands over her mouth. Cleo ran to Pucey and knelt beside him.

"Adrian, are you all right?"

"Well done, Mays!" said Owen, whose nose was bleeding from the force of Warrington's jinx.

Professor Snape swooped in, black robes billowing. "What is this? You were told to disarm only, Wood. Ten points from Hufflepuff."

"Sorry, Professor," said Maisie through gritted teeth. "But Pucey was using foul language."

"So you hit him with a jinx? Are you a child throwing a tantrum? Proper witches and wizards must be more responsible with their wands. Another ten points from Hufflepuff."

"Professor Snape-!"

"Are you all right, Pucey?"

"I'll be all right, Professor. Nothing seems to be broken."

"Nevertheless, you should go to the hospital wing. Warrington will take you. Powell, pair with Miss Bailey. Miss Sanchez will take over with Miss Wood."

Take over? I don't like the sound of that, Maisie thought.

"Yes, Professor Snape," said Cleo. She smiled warmly at Maisie, but her eyes were dark and cold.

As Pucey and Warrington were leaving, Lockhart commanded the group's attention again. "I think I'd better teach you how to _block_ unfriendly spells." He laughed ruefully, as if this were a mistake anyone might have made. "Let's have a pair demonstrate. Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you?" He gestured to a pair of second years: Justin, who was in Hufflepuff, and a pudgy Gryffindor boy.

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley to the hospital in a matchbox. How about Malfoy and Potter?"

"Excellent!" said Lockhart. "Come forward, Harry, don't be shy!"

The two boys ascended to the golden stage: one dark, one white-blond. They looked very small and very young. The other students crowded to the edge of the stage to watch. Maisie found her way back to her friends, and stood sandwiched between Pippa and George.

Snape pulled Malfoy aside for whispered instructions. Lockhart attempted to show Harry a spell but dropped his wand in the process. George sniggered.

"Let's begin!" Lockhart clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Now, each of these students have been shown a simple defensive spell. When I count to three, they have the option of assuming an aggressive or defensive stance. Let's see what they do, shall we? On the count of three! One—two—three!"

Malfoy shouted, " _Serpensortia_!"

An enormous black snake burst from the end of Malfoy's wand; many students recoiled in horror. The snake reared its head and bared its fangs at Harry, who seemed frozen with fear.

"Don't be afraid," said Snape languidly. "I'll take care of it."

"Allow me!" Lockhart stepped forward and brandished his wand boldly. Whatever spell he performed nonverbally, its only effect was to fling the snake up ten feet. It landed near a cluster of Hufflepuff second-years. Justin Finch-Fletchley was eye-to-eye with it.

"Justin!" Maisie tried to push toward her younger housemates, but there were too many people.

Harry ran to the edge of the stage and yelled at the snake…in Parselmouth. Harry Potter hissed like a snake, and the snake listened.

"What are you playing at?" shouted Justin, backing away from Harry. The Hufflepuff second-years fled the Great Hall, clustered protectively around Justin.

"Let's get out of here." Bryony grabbed Maisie. "Before Potter sics the snake on all of us."

"But the snake—" Maisie said, but she was drowned out.

The Hufflepuffs left the dueling club together, muttering angrily about Harry Potter. When Maisie glanced back over her shoulder, Harry was standing alone on the golden stage. Everyone, including the professors, was staring.

Harry looked as confused as any of them.


	8. Year 4: December 18, 1992

This was by the far the largest snowstorm Maisie had ever seen. The windows were darkened by snow. The fires was built high, but the castle remained chilly.

Normally, the Hufflepuff fourth-years had Herbology right after breakfast, but today they had a break; Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures classes were canceled. Maisie seized the opportunity to go over her Transfiguration notes. O.W.L.s were only a year away, and she needed to get her Transfiguration grade up if she wanted to be a Healer. Jasper Murray sat quietly next to her, writing a Potions essay. The others were playing games.

After Herbology was Transfiguration. Maisie took a seat near the front with Bryony, who was good at Transfiguration. They were transforming hedgehogs into pincushions. Maisie always felt sorry for the animals used in McGonagall's classes. She hoped they didn't suffer too much from students' clumsy efforts.

About a half-hour into the lesson, Owen accidentally hit Jimmy with a Transformation Spell and turned him into a badger.

Professor McGonagall descended like an angry hawk. " _Mister Powell!_ Never in all my years of teaching have I seen such an inept Transformation Spell! A badger? We are practicing animal-to-inanimate transfigurations! Ten points from Hufflepuff! Undo your mistake, and see me after class for extra homework assignments, because clearly my lessons are not sinking in!"

Owen shrank in his seat. Jimmy-the-badger snuffled. The Slytherins sniggered.

"Let me see you do the Repair Charm!" McGonagall crossed her arms.

Owen raised his wand and took a deep breath. " _Reparifarge!_ "

Suddenly Jimmy was in his seat again, gasping. His hair was the wrong color: black-and-white striped instead of dirty blonde.

This was one of the most difficult spells they'd learned; even Bryony and Jasper were struggling. Pippa gave up and was feeding her hedgehog bits of toast.

"Miss Bailey," said McGonagall, "can you kindly explain to me why you have stopped practicing your incantation? Where did you get that toast?"

"From breakfast, Professor," said Pippa blithely.

"I see. Let us return to the first question: why are you not practicing?"

Pippa mumbled something into her desk. The rest of the class stopped what they were doing to watch. Some of the Slytherins, Adrian Pucey among them, were laughing into their hands.

"I'm sorry, Miss Bailey, I didn't catch that."

"I'm sorry, Professor," said Pippa in a small voice. "I've been trying, but I can't do it."

"Don't you think practicing will help you improve?" McGonagall's expression was stern but not unsympathetic.

Pippa stared at her desk. Maisie knew by the hunch of her shoulders that she was trying not to cry; Pippa hated being the center of attention. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," said McGonagall. "A little break can do a lot of good. Would you go to the staff lounge for me and get some more ink?"

Pippa didn't move.

"Miss Bailey, that was not a suggestion."

"Sorry, Professor." Pippa slid out of her seat and made a hasty exit, head down.

Maisie and Bryony exchanged glances. Bryony shrugged.

Adrian Pucey said in a low voice, "Typical Mudblood. Can't even do a simple Transfiguration."

"Mr. Pucey!" said McGonagall sharply, but Maisie was already moving. She stomped across the aisle and shoved the tip of her wand against Adrian Pucey's face.

"What was that, Pucey?"

"Miss Wood, sit down!"

"You wanted to say something about my friend?" Maisie hardly heard McGonagall speaking; there was a loud roaring in her ears. "You pompous, arrogant, bigoted son of a—"

McGonagall's hand clamped down on Maisie's shoulder. "Miss Wood!"

There was sweat on Pucey's forehead. Maisie slowly lowered her wand. The roaring in her ears subsided. She turned to face Professor McGonagall.

"Sorry to disrupt class, Professor."

"Five points from Hufflepuff for a display of foul temper, and I'll see you Thursday at seven o'clock for a detention," said McGonagall.

Pucey was smirking. I'll get him for this later, Maisie thought. No matter how many penalties I get, I'm going to hit his handsome face with a Bludger.

"As for you, Mr. Pucey," said McGongall. " _Twenty_ points from Slytherin for bigoted language and behavior, and I'll see you for detention the next three Wednesdays at seven o'clock."

The smirk slid off Pucey's face. "But she attacked me, Professor!"

"And you're lucky that I stopped her!" said McGonagall. "That sort of thinking and language is unacceptable, particularly given recent events! I shall be speaking to Professor Snape about the attitudes of his students." She turned away sharply, her emerald robes swirling, and strode back to her desk. "Now—let me see all of you turn your hedgehogs into pincushions! Miss Wood, please take your seat."

Maisie returned to her desk and corralled her hedgehog, who had made a bid for freedom in her absence.

Bryony whispered: "That was brilliant! Pucey looked like he was going to shit himself!"

Leaning forward, Jimmy patted Maisie on the back. "Well done, Mays."

They continued practicing. Adrian Pucey gave Maisie murderous looks. She matched him glare for glare and was so distracted that she turned her hedgehog into a teacup.

"Admirable, Miss Wood, but not the objective of the exercise," said McGonagall drily, waving her wand over the unfortunate teacup. " _Reparifarge!_ "

The hedgehog scuttled across Maisie's desk, squeaking in agitation. Maisie sighed. Suddenly she was sick of Transfiguration and longing for lunch.

I'll never get the O.W.L. grade I need, she thought.

A scream from the corridor startled everyone; several people dropped their wands, and hedgehogs mutated left and right. Jimmy's sprouted rabbit ears, while Owen's hedgehog shrank to the size of a Sickle.

"Please remain calm!" said McGonagall.

Peeves's voice resonated throughout the classroom, corridors, and probably the entire castle:

"ATTACK! ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"

Even McGonagall could not stop the mass exodus from the classroom (leaving behind a number of half-Transfigured hedgehogs).

They were not the only class that came running; it seemed that entire school converged on the scene within minutes. People were screaming.

"Who is it?" Maisie stood on her tiptoes. "One of the ghosts was attacked?"

"I can't see!" said Bryony.

McGonagall raised her wand, which emitted a loud bang like a Muggle gunshot. Silence fell immediately. The crowd cleared a space, leaving Harry Potter standing next to three Petrified forms: Justin Finch-Fletchley, Nearly Headless Nick—smoky gray instead of his usual pearly white—and Pippa Bailey.

Maisie screamed and clapped both hands over her mouth. Bryony was already crying. Jimmy looked stricken. Owen put his arm around Maisie.

"She'll be fine," he whispered. "The Mandrakes are growing fast. Madam Pomfrey will sort her out."

Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff second-year, pointed a pudgy finger at Harry Potter. "Caught in the act!"

"Not that again," Maisie muttered. "Harry wouldn't hurt anybody."

"But he's a Parselmouth," said Owen. "Just like Slytherin. How do you explain that?"

Peeves, meanwhile, had made up a song: " _Oh Potter, you rotter, oh what have you done? You're killing off students, you think it's good fun…"_

"That's enough, Peeves!" said McGonagall. Peeves zoomed away backward, sticking his tongue out.

"Please return to your classes," said McGonagall. "Aurora, Filius, will you help me with this? No, Macmillan, you stay. Miss Wood, Miss Griffiths, you too, please."

Owen and Jimmy hesitated.

"Powell, Graham, go back to class," said McGonagall. "Your friends are not in trouble."

"We can help carry Pippa!" said Owen.

"You can go back to class and fix Graham's hair," said McGonagall. "He looks ridiculous. And don't run off, Powell. I was serious about that extra homework."

Maisie and Bryony helped Professors Flitwick and Sinistra carry Pippa and Justin to the hospital wing. Because she was shorter than Bryony, Maisie was paired with Flitwick to carry Pippa.

When they entered the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey came running. "Another attack? Put them over here. Gently, Miss Griffiths!"

They carefully laid Justin and Pippa on the beds. Ernie came in with Nearly Headless Nick, using a large fan to waft the ghost in the necessary direction.

"A ghost? How odd," said Madam Pomfrey. "Put him in the corner, Macmillan."

Maisie and Bryony stood by Pippa's bed, staring at her.

"She looks scared," said Bryony. "I wonder what she saw?"

"Slytherin's monster," Maisie said. "But that could be anything."

"How many things can petrify somebody like that?"

"Don't know. I'll look at Mr. Scamander's book."

"The professors will figure it out," said Bryony. "Between Lockhart and Kettleburn, they've probably seen every magical creature there is."

I think I'll look anyway, Maisie thought. The sooner we learn what did this to Pippa, the sooner Madam Pomfrey can fix her.


	9. Year 4: January 9, 1993

Since the winter holidays, Maisie had spent most of her free time in the library. This confused her friends, but she was rabidly curious about Slytherin's monster. What sort of creature could petrify people?

She'd made almost no progress. Newt Scamander's book had nothing. Professor Kettleburn signed a permission form for Maisie to visit the Restricted Section without any questions, but none of those books had yielded results, either.

Now, Maisie sat in a fortress of enormous, dusty tomes of magizoology, searching for any clue about the monster's identity. Snow fell softly outside.

"Is this seat take—oh, hello, Maisie."

It was Cedric. Maisie hastily tried to cover the book she was reading ( _Horrific Beasts of the Magical World_ ). "Oh. Hi, Cedric."

"Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

"Yeah, of course. All yours." Maisie cleared some space for him.

"What is all this, Mays?"

"Um, extra reading for Kettleburn's class."

"Since when does Kettleburn assign extra reading?"

Maisie squirmed. "Um. Actually, it's self-assigned."

"Sorry, I shouldn't pry." Cedric bent over his Transfiguration textbook. His hair was beautifully tousled.

"I'm…trying to figure out what Slytherin's monster is."

Cedric looked up. "To help Pippa and Justin?"

"That was the idea, but I haven't found anything." Maisie gestured to her pile of books.

"That's too bad. I'm sure you've been working hard at it."

Maisie sighed.

"Think about something else for a while," said Cedric. "Let it ruminate in the back of your mind."

Maisie reached for her book bag. "I could always study Transfiguration more."

"What are you studying? Cross-Species Switches?"

"That's it. It's really hard. I'm rubbish at it."

"Can I see your notes?" Cedric reached across the table.

"Oh, no, I don't want to distract you," said Maisie. "You've got your O.W.L. coming up."

"Cross-Species Switches will be on the O.W.L. It'll help me review."

"Really? You wouldn't mind?"

Cedric smiled. "Of course not."

Maisie's stomach fluttered.

They spent two hours studying. Maisie worried she was wasting Cedric's time, but he seemed genuinely interested in helping. Cedric Diggory, Maisie decided, was one of the nicest guys at Hogwarts.

By the time it got dark outside, Maisie felt reasonably confident with Cross-Species Switches.

"Thank you so much, Cedric," she said, packing up her bag. "I probably won't fail Transfiguration now."

"It was my pleasure." Cedric smiled. "I'm sure you're not as bad as all that."

Maisie rolled her eyes. "Last week I turned a guinea pig into a teacup."

"Hey, at least you're transfiguring!" said Cedric with a laugh. "Next step: doing the transfiguration you're supposed to."

Maisie laughed, her face bright red.

"I'll see you at practice," said Cedric.

"Yeah, see you." Maisie shouldered her bag and left before she said anything embarrassing.

Maisie left her bag in the dormitory and took a pot of marigolds away. She wanted to put them by Pippa's hospital bed.

Visitors to the hospital were heavily restricted. Madam Pomfrey was fiercely protective of her patients, and there wasn't much point talking to a petrified person. Pippa clearly didn't know Maisie was there, nor would she notice that Maisie changed the old flowers out for fresh ones.

Maisie sat by Pippa's bed for a few minutes, thinking about Cedric Diggory. He'd really helped her with Transfiguration. She hoped he'd be willing to do it again.

"Cedric's so nice," Maisie said to Pippa. "Everybody thinks so. And he's a really good Quidditch player. He's good at Transfiguration. …I wish you were awake, Pip, so I could talk to you about this."

Madam Pomfrey came in and disappeared behind a set of curtains. Maisie assumed there was another petrification victim back there, but she heard Madam Pomfrey speaking softly to someone. The matron reemerged and left the hospital without a word to Maisie.

Curious, Maisie approached the curtained bed. "Hello? Is someone there?"

There was a muffled gasp. "Pl—please go away!"

"I know that voice." Maisie took a few more steps. "This is Maisie Wood."

"I said go away!"

Maisie reached the bed and pulled aside one of the curtains. Her jaw dropped.

Hermione Granger was in the hospital bed—at least, Maisie was pretty sure it was Hermione. That was Hermione's dark, curly hair; but Hermione did not have a cat's nose and ears, as far as Maisie could recall.

"Hermione? What the—"

"None of your business," said Hermione quickly.

"… Does Ron know you're in here?"

"Of course. He and Harry visit me every day."

"I won't ask what happened, because you were clearly breaking about fifty school rules. I've been there."

"What, you've broken school rules?" Hermione shook her head. "Sorry, I just assumed—Oliver Wood never has detention."

"I haven't exactly followed in my brother's footsteps." Maisie chuckled.

"I guess that makes sense. You're friends with the twins, aren't you?" said Hermione. "Is it true they've been into the Forbidden Forest? I never know whether to take Fred seriously."

"Never take Fred seriously," said Maisie. "And, yes, we've been out there. Seen some crazy things."

"We had a detention in the Forbidden Forest last year," said Hermione.

"We?"

"Harry, Neville, and I got into trouble. Lost a hundred and fifty points."

"I remember how low the Gryffindor hourglass got." Maisie chuckled. "The twins were furious that Hufflepuff was ahead of them."

"Everyone in Gryffindor was angry with us," Hermione said. "It was a hard couple of weeks."

"I've always thought that Gryffindors were too competitive for their own good."

"I think so, too, honestly. Everyone is obsessed with Quidditch. It doesn't many any sense."

"I'm on the Quidditch team, so I can't empathize with that," Maisie said. "But we Hufflepuffs aren't so competitive. We just like to have fun!"

"That sounds nice," said Hermione. "I thought I'd be in Ravenclaw, or maybe Slytherin—because of the ambition, you know. But after what's happened, of course I'm relieved to not be in Slytherin."

"Every Slytherin I know is an asshole."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "That Draco Malfoy is foul. You know he called me a Mudblood to my face? I didn't even know what it meant until Ron told me. It's horrid!"

"They've been bandying that word around too much lately," said Maisie. "It's not a word you use in polite company—or at all. But whatever is petrifying Muggle-born students is making the bigots bolder."

"You've noticed no Slytherin students have been petrified, of course."

"Of course! No Muggle-born would be allowed in the great house of Slytherin." Maisie rolled her eyes. "Just ignore them, Hermione. You've as much right to be here as anybody. Harry and Ron said you're the best at magic in your whole year."

Hermione's cat ears perked up. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah. They talked about you a lot, actually."

"That's nice to hear." Hermione ducked her head to hide her smile.

"How much longer are you going to be here?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. "It's a lot better than it was, but I want to be back to normal before I go."

"You didn't fully turn yourself into a cat, did you?"

"No." Hermione hesitated. "But I did have a tail and fur all over my face."

Maisie laughed, but tried to cover it with her hand. "Sorry, sorry. I'm sure that was traumatic."

"It was!" said Hermione indignantly. "And people keep trying to look at me because they think I've been petrified! It's embarrassing!"

"I'm sure it is," said Maisie soothingly. "I won't tell anybody you're in here, I promise. I should go; the dinner bell will ring soon."

"I have homework to work on here." Hermione reached for a pile of books on the nightstand. "I suppose I'll see you around."

"Yeah, I'll be back to visit Pippa," said Maisie. "I could stop by and chat, if you like?"

Hermione stopped mid-reach, a book held suspended in midair. "That might be nice," she said finally.

"All right," said Maisie. "I'll see you around, then."

The dinner bell rang, and Maisie was almost glad of the excuse to leave the hospital wing. The petrified students had nothing to say, and Hermione Granger was not the friendliest of girls.


	10. Year 4: February 14, 1993

Professor McGonagall was livid. Everyone knew by the narrowness of her nostrils, and by the muscle twitching in her cheek. The cause of her anger was also widely known: Professor Lockhart.

The Great Hall was an eyesore. Everything was decorated in lurid shades of pink, including Lockhart himself. Heart-shaped confetti fell from the ceiling. Half the girls were overcome with fits of the giggles, including Bryony. Maisie spent breakfast staring fixedly at her cereal, her face hot. Cedric was sitting only three seats away. Owen sat directly across from Maisie, looking around at the Great Hall decorations as if they were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

Lockhart waved his wide pink sleeves for silence. "Happy Valentine's Day! I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you—and it doesn't end here!"

He clapped his hands. A dozen surly-looking dwarfs, clad in golden wings and carrying harps, marched into the Great Hall, to general confusion.

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" Lockhart flashed a benevolent, toothy smile. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion!"

"I wish I'd known he was doing this," Bryony whispered. "I would've made cards for you all."

"We can make some during History of Magic," said Maisie. "I think there's craft supplies in Pippa's trunk. She wouldn't mind, especially if we leave her one."

They left breakfast early so they could stop by their dormitory and rummage through Pippa's trunk. They aired out her unused bed every day, but most of her things were as she'd left them. The craft supplies—glitter, glue, and colorful paper—were at the bottom of her trunk; there wasn't much call for glitter at Hogwarts.

Bryony and Maisie sat in the back of History of Magic. While Professor Binns droned, they cut out several dozen pink and red hearts and addressed one to every single person in Hufflepuff.

"We have a few extra." Bryony shuffled through their stack of valentines. "Unless we forgot someone?"

"I don't think so," said Maisie. "Can we send some to Lee and the twins?"

Bryony laughed. "Valentines for our Gryffindor detention buddies? Of course!"

After History of Magic, they found one of Lockhart's dwarfs and gave him their pile of valentines.

"We'll hand-deliver Pip's after class," Bryony said. "Let's hurry, or we'll be late to Potions!"

They had Potions with the Ravenclaws. Owen and Jimmy had saved their seats.

"Cedric was looking for you," Jimmy said.

"For me?" said Maisie.

"For all of us," said Owen. "We're having a real Valentine's party in the kitchen after dinner. We're supposed to invite the whole school."

"That sounds fun," said Bryony. "I hope he told the house-elves, so they have time to prepare."

"Silence!" said Professor Snape. "I'm sure you are all deeply excited by Professor Lockhart's celebrations, but in this class we deal with serious matters. Turn your attention to the board."

After lunch, the fourth-year Hufflepuffs tramped down to the greenhouses for Herbology with the Gryffindors. There was snow on the ground, but several days of students walking had worn a smooth path to the greenhouses.

As usual, Lee and the twins had saved seats for Bryony and Maisie. Normally, Pippa was also at their table, but they'd been leaving an empty seat for her out of respect. Today, however, Owen slid into the empty seat, leaving Jasper and Jimmy with Angelina and Alicia, who was wearing a bright pink headscarf in honor of the holiday.

"Hello, Puffs." Fred handed Maisie a pair of protective gloves.

Maisie took the gloves—Fred knew to get her extra-small—and slid them on. "How's your Valentine's Day so far?"

"Oh, fairly uneventful," said Lee. "Fred sent McGonagall a singing valentine."

"You didn't!" Maisie laughed. "What did she do?"

"She was trying _so_ hard not to smile," said George. "I've never seen McGonagall make that face before. It was like she'd swallowed a bottle of murtlap essence."

"It was brilliant," said Lee. "It rhymed, too! We worked really hard on that, didn't we?"

"I was going to deliver it myself," said Fred, "but Lockhart provided those dwarfs, and I thought, why not put them to good use?"

The greenhouse door opened, and two of Lockhart's dwarfs sauntered in.

Professor Sprout sighed heavily and put down her trowel. "Be quick about it."

Every Hufflepuff got an anonymous valentine, but most of them recognized the handwriting and grinned at Maisie and Bryony. Fred, George, and Lee were effusive.

"Oh, ladies, this is too much!" George clutched his valentine to his heart and fluttered his eyes. "You really shouldn't have!"

"I am moved beyond words," said Lee. "I will treasure this scrap of pink paper for all times."

Fred pressed it theatrically to his lips and tucked it into his pocket. "Thanks, guys."

"Glad you like them," said Bryony.

"We're going to fail our next history test because of these," said Maisie. "Unless Owen's willing to lend us his notes?"

Owen snorted. "You think I take notes in that class?"

As it turned out, Maisie and Bryony had secretly made extra valentines for each other.

"Typical Puff," said Fred. "Making sure each other isn't left out."

"Hey, what's that other card, Mays?" said George, leaning across the table and snagging it.

"Dunno." Maisie shrugged. "It has my name on it, but nobody signed it."

"Oooh, a secret admirier!" Lee snatched the card from George and read it. "'Hope your day is as lovely as your smile'—aww, that's disgusting!"

Maisie' face flooded bright red. "Give it back, Lee!"

"So you can keep it under your pillow?" Lee dangled it out of Maisie's reach for a second, but then he gave it back. "That's real cute, Mays."

"Who do you reckon sent it?" said Fred.

"No idea."

"Aww, look at her blushing!" said George. "Who do you _hope_ sent it?"

"Nobody!" Maisie didn't think her face could get any hotter.

"Liar," said Lee.

"Hey, I've got an unsigned card, too," said Bryony, mercifully drawing attention away from Maisie.

"Well, hot damn!" Lee clapped his hands. "Our girls are all grown up and attracting secret admirers! This is a proud day for me."

Bryony tossed her dark curls. "You know we couldn't have done it without you, Lee."

After class, Maisie and Bryony visited Pippa in the hospital. Apparently, she'd had other visitors, because there were multiple vases of flowers and cards by her bed. The other victims had similar gifts from their friends. Bryony and Maisie added their card and flowers to Pippa's pile, then hurried back to the common room to start an essay for Snape.

"So, who do you think sent our anonymous cards?" said Bryony.

Maisie sighed. "Can we not do this again? I don't know!"

"Why are you getting flustered? It's just a fun little card."

Maisie squirmed. "I didn't know anybody even thought about me that way. It's weird, you know?"

"I guess so." Bryony gave her a sidelong glance. "So George was right. There _is_ someone you hope sent the card. Who is it?"

Maisie wished the floor would swallow her. "Bryony, please?"

"Sorry." Bryony glanced furtively around the room. "Is it someone from Hufflepuff?"

" _Bryony!_ "

"Sorry, sorry!" Bryony laughed. "Gosh, I never thought I'd see you like this! You _like_ somebody!"

"Well, who's yours from, then?"

Bryony shrugged dismissively, but her face was pink. "If they want to talk to me, they know where I am."

"I wish I could be that casual about it," said Maisie. "I've never liked anybody before. I never know what to do when they're around. I sound like an idiot when I talk."

"No, you don't," said Bryony. "I'm sure whoever it is doesn't think you're an idiot."

Jasper sat down next to Maisie without a word and opened his Potions textbook. They spent the next two hours working on Snape's essay; by the time they went to dinner, it was nearly finished.

There was still pink confetti falling from the ceiling during dinner. It got in Maisie's soup, so she gave up on it and ate roast instead. The tables buzzed with talk: who'd gotten valentines from whom, the Hufflepuffs' party in the kitchens, Lockhart's robes, and Slytherin's monster.

The party was going to start at eight, giving the house elves time to clean up from dinner. The teachers knew nothing about it.

When they were back in the common room, Patricia Stimpson said, "Isn't it sort of dangerous, wandering the school at night? What if somebody gets attacked?"

"We'll be back in our dorms by curfew," said Cedric. "If people stick together in groups, we'll be fine. The prefects will be there."

The Hufflepuffs went to the kitchen at seven forty-five; because they were acting as hosts, they wanted to be there when everybody else showed up. The house elves had moved the House tables aside and laid out snacks: pasties, tarts, punch, and butterbeer. The Hufflepuffs put up some decorations of their own (streamers in all the House colors) and milled around the room, waiting.

The Ravenclaws were punctual, the Gryffindors less so. Only a handful of Slytherins showed up, but they were made welcome by the Hufflepuff hosts. Cedric and Callum set up a wireless in the corner, and some people started dancing.

Maisie danced with her friends in a small circle near the middle of the floor. Gradually the circle expanded, leaving an awkward space in the middle. Owen seized the opportunity to make himself the center of attention, and did a clumsy pop-and-lock. People laughed and clapped. Fred wolf-whistled.

After Owen, the twins went to the middle of the floor. They had a semi-choreographed danced routine that involved synchronized head-bobbing and Fred flipping over George's back. That got even louder applause. Other people pushed in, eager to show off their dance moves.

Maisie and Bryony moved to the side of the room and sat on one of the tables, drinking butterbeer and watching the dancers.

"It looks like everybody's having fun," Maisie said.

"Good!" said Bryony. "We could all use a little fun."

Cedric and Callum joined them.

"We brought you refills." Cedric handed Maisie a frothy mug of butterbeer. "Got to stay hydrated."

"Cheers." Maisie toasted him and took a sip. To her embarrassment, she came up with a foam moustache.

Cedric laughed, but not unkindly. "Have a good day?"

Maisie furiously wiped her mouth. "Yeah, it was good. You?"

"Great. I got this fantastic little card from a dwarf carrying a harp." Cedric pulled one of Maisie's valentines out of his pocket. "Callum got one, too."

"That's nice." Maisie kept a straight face. "Who sent them?"

"Not sure," said Cedric. "It says, 'Have a puff-tastic Valentine's Day!' Which is corny, but it makes me think that another Hufflepuff sent it."

"Could be," said Maisie, "or it could be somebody else who has a healthy respect for our great House."

Cedric laughed. "I know it was you, Mays. C'mon, I know your handwriting."

"We made them for everybody," Maisie said hastily. "Me and Bryony. It's not—I mean, it is a Valentine's Day card, but—"

"I wanted to thank you," Cedric said. "I saw that every Hufflepuff got one. That's really sweet of you."

Maisie's face was hot. "It was no problem."

"But I was worried that you'd be left out," Cedric said.

"No, we sent each other cards, too," Bryony interjected. "And we left cards for Pippa and Justin in the hospital wing. They'll see them when they wake up."

"I'm sure they'll love that," Callum said. "When they wake up."

 _When_ they wake up, Maisie reminded herself. Not if. _When._

Cedric said, "It was a great thing to do. Pure Hufflepuff. So, as a prefect, I'm awarding twenty points to each of you, for showing true Puff spirit."

"Really?" said Bryony. "Aw, thanks, Cedric!" She patted him on the arm.

"Careful you don't show favoritism," said Callum seriously.

"Merlin forbid," said Cedric with equal solemnity.

Cedric sat next to Maisie, so close their shoulders were touching. Maisie's heart was pounding. The room was very warm. Why couldn't wizards use Muggle air conditioning?

"So, you just got the one card from Bryony?"

"No, actually." Maisie stared into her butterbeer. "I got an anonymous card."

"Any idea who it's from?"

"Not a clue," Maisie told her butterbeer. "Oliver _might_ have done, but it's not his handwriting."

"No?" Cedric was laughing.

Maisie turned her head. "What's so funny?" He was sitting _very_ close.

"Mays, you're great, but you're awfully dense."

Maisie wanted to argue, but Cedric leaned in and kissed her. Maisie closed her eyes. He smelled good. It only lasted a moment; it was more of a peck, really. But still. Her first kiss.

Cedric pulled back. "Sorry. I hope that wasn't, ah—you okay?"

"Oh, yeah," said Maisie. "I'm great. Fantastic. How are you?"

"Really good, actually." He smiled at her, and Maisie felt very warm. She wanted the moment to last forever, but she also wanted to run away and hide. He had beautiful gray eyes tinted with blue.

"Hey, Mays, they're going to play some Muggle songs." It was Owen, damn him. "Fancy a dance?"

"Yeah, I'm game." Maisie got down off the table. "Callum? Um, Cedric? You guys want—"

"Yeah, let's dance." Cedric slid gracefully off the table. "What's Muggle music like? And how are we getting it?"

"Lee's a genius with the radio," said Owen. "He's tuned it to a Muggle station, and the guy on the radio just said it's an 'hour long rock block,' whatever that means."

"No commercials," said Maisie. "You really should've taken Muggle Studies, Owen."

The song started up, and Maisie actually knew it: "Come On, Eileen." She squealed.

"Oh my gosh! Is Oliver here? He loves this song! Has anybody seen my brother?"

Oliver appeared at her side as if he'd Apparated. "Hey, Mays. Living room dance?"

"Living room dance?" said several people.

"Just watch!" Maisie yelled as Oliver pulled her away.

The living room dance was something Maisie and Oliver had perfected over the years. It could be adjusted to almost any song, but they saved it for songs they liked. Dad liked to listen to Muggle radio while he cooked, and "Come On, Eileen" was a family favorite. The other students cleared a generous space to watch Maisie and Oliver do their dance. Fred and George also knew the song (somehow) and shouted along to the lyrics.

After "Come On, Eileen," Maisie and Oliver tried to separate and disappear into the crowd, but they were pushed into an encore performance. Others joined them on the dance floor, Bryony and Callum among them. Owen dragged Evie out of the corner; Jimmy was dancing with Alicia Spinnet.

When that song was over, Leah Dixon (Hufflepuff prefect _cum_ Keeper) turned off the radio to groans and shouts of disappointment. She got up on a table to shout over the crowd:

"Sorry, everybody, but that's curfew! It isn't safe to be out at night! Back to your dorms, please, and _stay together!_ Be safe!"

The party dispersed, leaving the Hufflepuffs to help the house elves clean up.

"Thank you so much for this," Maisie said to her favorite house elf, Tibby. "It was great."

"It's our pleasure to serve!" said Tibby in his squeaky voice.

Is it? Maisie wondered.

The Hufflepuffs returned to their common room, bringing snacks and butterbeer with them. Jimmy wanted to play Exploding Snap, but Maisie was ready for bed. She wove through the crowd, excusing herself all the way. Several people clapped her on the back.

"Who knew you could dance like that?" said Owen. "That was bloody brilliant!"

"G'night, Mays," said Jimmy. "Thanks for the card, by the way. I'm putting it in my scrapbook."

"I look forward to seeing this year's scrapbook, Jim," said Maisie with a grin. Jimmy's Hogwarts scrapbooks were already a Hufflepuff legend.

Cedric intercepted her at the door to the girls' dorms. "Turning in already?"

"Yeah, I'm knackered." Maisie nervously tucked her hair behind her ears. "Early practice tomorrow, right?"

"Right, of course." Cedric rocked back and forth on his heels. "So, I guess I'll see you?"

"Yeah, see you." In a fit of boldness, Maisie stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "Thanks for the card. I loved it."

"Anytime." Cedric smiled at her.

Maisie retreated to her empty dorm room. She was halfway into her pajamas when Bryony burst in.

"Cedric kissed you!" Bryony bounced onto Maisie's bed, knocking several pillows to the floor. "And you wanted him to, didn't you? He sent you the card, didn't he? Maisie! This is amazing!"

Maisie squealed and put her hands over her face. "I know, I know! I can't believe it!"

"I can't believe I never noticed!" said Bryony. "He talks to you all the time, and you always look like you've swallowed Firewhiskey—sorry, sorry! I feel like such a bad friend!"

"No, don't be sorry!" Maisie grabbed Bryony's hands. "You're an amazing friend! I'm an idiot, and I didn't know how to deal with feelings!"

"We're celebrating," said Bryony. "Tomorrow night, we're going to the kitchens and having our own little party. Just you and me. Oh, I can't wait to tell Pippa when she wakes up!"

 _When,_ Maisie thought. _When_ Pippa wakes up. I'll have so much to tell her!


	11. Year 4: March 27, 1993

Maisie ransacked every Hufflepuff fourth year girl's trunk in search of something to wear to Hogsmeade. Normally, she wouldn't have cared much, but Cedric had asked her to have lunch at the Three Broomsticks. She was unspeakably nervous.

"Just go with the green one, Mays," said Bryony. "It's a good color on you, and it doesn't look like you're trying too hard. We need to go."

"But my hair is a disaster!"

"No, it isn't. Your hair looks great."

"Pippa's the one who really knows how to do this." Maisie tugged on the end of her braid. "Maybe I should just wear it down?"

"If you want," said Bryony, "but it's windy outside."

"Fine, the braid stays."

They hurried to the entrance hall, showed Filch their permission slips, and joined their friends in a carriage.

"No Cedric, Mays?" said Owen.

"I'm meeting him later." Maisie tugged her braid. "So, Fred, George: what are our plans for today?"

"Glad you asked, Maisie Daisy," said Fred, unrolling a sheath of parchment with aplomb.

The twins' birthday—April 1st—usually fell the week before or after a Hogsmeade weekend. In their first year, the twins had taken the secret tunnel to Honeydukes, made a side trip to Zonko's, and thrown themselves an epic party in the kitchens. Since then, the Wealsey twins' birthday was an unofficial Hogwarts holiday.

"As you can see from your individualized itineraries," said Lee, handing round sheets of parchment that had each person's name at the top (Maisie's was addressed to "Maisie the Daisy"), "we are dividing duties this year. Save everybody a bit of time and headache. Puffs are in charge of decorations. In Pippa's absence, Bryony, the responsibility is falling heavily on you."

"I hope I prove worthy of the challenge." Bryony rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"The twins will be going to Honeydukes for snacks," Lee said.

"Lee, I really think—" Fred began.

"Bup-up-up-up-up!" Lee put a finger to Fred's lips. "I'm taking Mays to Zonko's to pick out party favors. We shall not disappoint you, good sirs."

"Fred, c'mon," said George. "Lee wants to try and surprise us. Let's let him."

"Don't count me out!" said Maisie.

"Never, m'dear." George winked.

"Should we go to Zonko's with you, then?" said Owen. "The more brains the better, right? If we really want to surprise Fred and George?"

"Nah, me and Mays got it," said Lee.

"Besides," said Bryony, "I need you and Jimmy to help me carry stuff."

When the carriages stopped, Maisie was first out the door, dragging Lee by the wrist.

"Why the big rush, Mays?"

"Promise you won't laugh?" said Maisie.

The bell above the door in Zonko's made a loud raspberry noise when they opened it.

"On my honor as a Gryffindor, I shall not laugh," said Lee.

"I have a lunch date with Cedric." Maisie looked very intently at a selection of fake wands as she said this. "What's so exciting about these? It's just a stick!"

"Wait, back up. A lunch date? With Cedric Diggory? Are you serious?"

"Don't sound so surprised, Lee."

"I'm not, I swear. I saw you guys at the Valentine's party—actually, the whole school saw. Makes sense, though. He's gotta mark his territory."

" _Territory?_ " Maisie punched Lee on the arm with considerable force.

"Ouch! Jeez, Maisie!" Lee rubbed his arm.

"I'm not his property, Lee! I'm not anybody's property! 'Mark his territory'—are you _insane_? Is it 1942? I think I would've noticed the fucking Blitz—what the fuck do you mean, mark his—"

"Maisie, calm down! I'm sorry! That was a poor choice of words."

"Damn right it was! What gives you the right—"

"I'm _sorry._ It was a joke in poor taste. Can we move on, please? I only meant—he chose a very public place to do that. Which makes sense, considering how many guys have been eyeing you lately."

"Eyeing me? That's even grosser, Lee. Am I a piece of meat now?"

Lee sighed. "Okay, I keep sticking my foot in my mouth. I'm really sorry. I only meant that…Cedric had to make sure other guys knew you were unavailable, didn't he?"

"What, I can't tell them myself that I'm unavailable?"

"Look, don't shoot the patriarchal messenger, okay?" Lee held up his hands. "He probably didn't think of it that way consciously. Cedric's a good guy. I'm sure he respects the hell out of you."

Maisie examined a display of wriggling jelly worms while she thought about this. "Okay, I think I see what you mean. I'm sorry if I overreacted."

"Nah, not really." Lee put two of the fake wands into their shopping basket. "I said it all wrong, and it's a stupid way of thinking anyway. Of course you can tell guys yourself if you're unavailable."

"So, you think Cedric wants me to be unavailable?"

Lee nudged her. "I see your smile. And I think you know the answer to that."

"Great!" Maisie suddenly felt buoyant. "So, what do you think of these teacups? Supposedly, they bite your nose if you try to drink out of them."

Lee examined the teacups with a professional eye. "Might work on George; he loves tea. But I think Fred would suspect something. Let's give it a pass for now."

They spent two hours in Zonko's, trying to find prank gifts that might fool the Weasley twins; Maisie was very nearly late for her lunch. But Lee ushered her out the door.

"I think I can handle being rung up, Mays."

When Maisie pushed open the door to the Three Broomsticks, delicious aromas filled her noses: pies, pasties, and the warm sweet smell of butterbeer. The pub was crowded with Hogwarts students (most Hogsmeade residents chose to eat at home on Hogwarts days).

"Maisie!" Owen waved to her from a corner booth. Jimmy, Bryony, the twins, Angelina, Katie, and Alicia were crammed into said booth, surrounded by shopping bags.

Maisie waved back, but she was scanning the pub for Cedric. There was no sign of him. Maisie sighed. Surely he wasn't standing her up?

Someone touched her gently on the elbow. "I found us a table in the back."

Maisie looked up into Cedric's smiling face. "Brilliant."

The pub was quite crowded, so they had to sit on the same side of the table to hear each other.

"Having a good day?" said Cedric.

"Oh, yeah." Maisie sipped her butterbeer. "The twins' birthday is next week, so we're picking up snacks and stuff for the party."

"I heard about that party last year." Cedric grinned. "Didn't you all get detention?"

"Not all of us!" Maisie said. "Just the people who set off the fireworks."

"So, you."

Maisie laughed. "Not just me. But yes, a bunch of us got detention. Fred loves Filibuster's Fireworks, and he's not afraid to use his birthday to get what he wants."

"He's funny. How's Transfiguration going for you?"

"Better, thanks to you. I aced the test on Cross-Species Switches, and it's really helped my grade."

"I take it you'll drop Transfiguration after O.W.L.s?"

Maisie sighed. "Sadly, I need it if I want to become a Healer."

"A Healer, really?" Cedric sat back and eyed her appraisingly. "I can see it. When there's not blood gushing out of your nose."

"Yeah, and you stopped the gushing. Cheers for that, by the way."

"Any time. Couldn't let a pretty girl bleed out in front of my eyes."

Maisie ducked her head to hide her red face. "So, um, what about you? After O.W.L.s?"

"Dad's keen on me being an Auror, so I have to keep Transfiguration, too. The one that'll give me trouble is Potions—Snape only takes 'Outstandings' into N.E.W.T. I guess you'll need it, too?"

"Yeah. I'm dreading it. Maybe I should consider other career options." Maisie laughed ruefully.

"Could do. You're a fair Quidditch player."

"So're you."

"That settles it: we're dropping out of school to become professional Quidditch players."

"Cheers to that." Maisie raised her mug and clinked it against his.

It was a pleasant lunch. Maisie felt very warm—from excitement or the crowd—but there was no awkwardness. Cedric asked her many questions about herself, and she tried to do the same.

After lunch, they went outside into a brisk, windy afternoon. Cedric took Maisie's hand ("So we don't get separated") and they found her friends in the road.

"There you are!" Owen spotted them immediately. "You guys were gone a long time."

For some reason, Maisie felt defensive. "Yeah, well, it was crowded in there. The kitchen was backed up. Didn't you notice?"

"Our food was slow, too." Bryony nearly dropped one of her parcels.

"Here, Bryony, let me help you with that." Cedric let go Maisie's hand to take packages. "Maisie told me you guys are having a party."

"It's usually just people from our year," said Owen.

"But if you want to come, Cedric, you're welcome," said Fred quickly.

"Cheers." Cedric smiled genially.

"So, Maisie," said Lee, "tell Fred what you told me."

Maisie stared at Lee blankly. "Lee, what the flying fuck are you talking about?"

"The fake wands in Zonko's!"

"What about them?"

"Remember what you said?"

"…They're kind of lame?"

"You're useless!" Lee turned to Fred. "Maisie was totally unimpressed, she goes, 'what's so great about these? They're just sticks!'"

"Just sticks!" Fred chortled. "She's right, though. A fake wand should really mess with you."

"Like how?" said Angelina.

"What about…a fake wand that turns into a rubber chicken when you wave it?" said George.

"Oh, that's brilliant! I love it!" Fred laughed and rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Or what if it, like, beat you over the head?"

"Or spat something on you? Bubotuber pus!"

"Brilliant! Course you'd need an antidote immediately."

"No pus, then. Jelly?"

"What the hell are you two talking about?" said Bryony.

"Fake wands, Bry, keep up," said George.

"I know that. I mean—why? What's wrong with the Zonko's ones?"

"Nothing at all," said Fred, "but I've always felt that they could be _more,_ haven't you?"

"Not really, no."

"I think I get it," said Cedric. "Why go halfway with a joke product? We're wizards, aren't we?"

"See, Cedric gets it!" said George.

Normally, they would have lingered in Hogsmeade for the afternoon; but because of the number of things they were carrying, they opted to leave early. As they walked to where the carriages would pick them up, Fred and George kept up a stream of hypothetical joke products. Some of their ideas left the others in stitches—a teakettle that whistled loudly at inopportune times, boiling water or no—while others were firmly vetoed.

"Sorry, Fred." Alicia shook her head. "Nobody's going to want to buy a dream charm. I never remember my dreams anyway! What's the point?"

"The point, Alicia, is that it's the best dream you've ever had!" Fred waved his hands artistically. "How could you not remember it?"

"What if you could control the dream?" George suggested.

"Again: how well do we really remember our dreams?"

"What about something to distract people from class?" said Jimmy. "Like sentient balloon animals, or something. Inflate a bird and set it on the professor!"

"Jimmy, that's brilliant!" Fred grabbed Jimmy's hand and kissed it suavely. "Mwah! Pure genius!"

"Class distractions, hm?" George stroked his chin thoughtfully.

Jimmy's face was bright red. "It doesn't have to be balloon animals."

"Right!" said Fred. "There are other ways to avoid class."

A carriage pulled up; the others piled in, but Cedric hung back. "I, um, wanted to go look in Dogweed and Deathcap. Herbology O.W.L. is coming up, and they have a lot of the curriculum plants in there."

"I'll go with you." Maisie passed the things she was carrying to Bryony. "My dad was asking about some plants that are hard to get."

"We'll see you guys back in the common room later," said Bryony.

"Not us," said Fred. "Different common room."

Maisie laughed. "Yeah, obviously. See you later."

As the carriage pulled away, Cedric took Maisie's hand again. "Your friends are a riot."

"Yeah, aren't they fun?" Maisie grinned. "I've known Lee since we were eight. Maybe, um, we should hang out with your friends next time?" Did he want there to be a next time?

"Yeah." Cedric smiled. "Next time." He leaned down and kissed her gently, and Maisie felt perfectly happy.


	12. Year 4: April 16, 1993

Maisie was frustrated. She threw down her quill and pushed the book away. "I give up."

"Don't say that." Cedric patted her hand, a bit absently; he was deeply absorbed in his Herbology notes. As O.W.L.s grew closer, Cedric and the other fifth-years grew more frazzled.

Jasper wordlessly reached across the table and took Maisie's essay. He skimmed it, made a few notes, and handed it back to her.

"You have to think about the components, not just the whole," he said.

"Thanks, Jasper." Maisie sighed. "I think I need a break. Anybody fancy a snack?"

"Me, please," said Bryony.

"I wouldn't mind a scone," said Jasper.

"Jam tarts sounds good," Jimmy said.

Cedric said nothing, but Maisie knew his favorite study snack: shortbread biscuits. She left the common room and walked down the corridor. Proximity to the kitchens was the best thing about the Hufflepuff common room.

The house elves were busy preparing dinner, but there was a student sitting at one of the long tables, bent over his books. Maisie recognized Fred's mop of red hair.

She told the house elves what she wanted. Tibby handed her a hot cup of tea—lemon and sugar, just how she liked it—and said, "Sit, sit! We will be quick!"

"No rush." Maisie went to join Fred at the table.

He didn't notice her until she sat down. "Oh! Hi, Maisie."

"Hi, Fred." Maisie set her teacup down. "No George or Lee?"

"No. I like to study alone."

"I didn't know you liked to study."

"Does anybody really _like_ to study, Maisie?" Fred raised an eyebrow. "I genuinely think I'm going to flunk Potions, and I'd rather not. Mum would have a fit."

"Snape grades too harshly!" Maisie said. "He's a monster!"

"Tell me about it. Last week he told me that if my Shrinking Solution didn't look exactly right he'd make me drink it. I asked if I'd still have to take the exam, since the quill would be taller than me."

Maisie was sipping tea, and nearly spat it out. "Oh, Fred, you didn't! He didn't like that."

"No, of course not. A month's detention and thirty points from Gryffindor. It was worth it, though." Fred wrinkled his nose. "Lee laughed so hard he dropped a beaker of Swelling Solution on Towler's feet. Poor guy's already got troll feet."

Maisie laughed. "Stop it! I'm going to spit my tea everywhere!"

"Don't you dare!" Fred covered his books protectively. "I need these for self-preservation!"

"Your mum's on you about school?"

"She's disappointed that George and I aren't stellar students like our older brothers. But we like to do things our own way."

"I'll say." Maisie smiled. "Well done with Lockhart's robes, by the way. How'd you get into his office?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "You think that idiot's got good security? We picked the lock in two minutes."

"He and Snape look like the 'before' and 'after' for a shampoo ad," Maisie said. "Since their robes match and all."

Fred guffawed. "I wish I was drinking tea so I could spit it everywhere."

"But you need your books for self-preservation!"

"Eh, there's probably some drying charm or other, isn't there?"

"Yeah! Remember? McGonagall dried us off after we crossed the lake first year."

"Oh, I'd forgotten about that!" Fred laughed. "I remember you pretended to see the giant squid so you could push us into the water!"

"I didn't push you in!" Maisie protested. "I pretended like I was going to push you in—and then Lee almost fell in anyway, the big dolt."

"How'd you guys meet, anyway? You've known each other forever, right?"

"Since we were eight." Maisie shrugged. "It's not that exciting. We were the only Wizarding kids in our neighborhood. We used to steal our parents' wands. I remember Dad got really mad once because I accidentally made a bunch of slugs. Ruined his garden that year."

"That's nothing," said Fred. "Our garden's full of gnomes, right? We have to de-gnome every couple of weeks. George and I thought we'd save ourselves some trouble, and we strapped them to fireworks."

Maisie clapped her hands over her mouth. "You did not! Those poor gnomes!"

"Ah, they were fine. Came back a week later wanting more." Fred grinned. "Mum was furious, though. Another time we stole Dad's wand and tried shrinking all the gnomes, so Mum couldn't see them anymore. It worked…for about an hour. Then all the sudden there were _hundreds_ of gnomes running around—that's not an exaggeration, so don't look at me like that. I don't know where they all came from, but Mum was having a garden party and suddenly there were all these gnomes. We all laughed until we cried—even Percy! But Mum was _livid._ I wasn't sure I'd see the light of day again."

Maisie couldn't stop laughing. "I can just picture your mum's face! Merlin's pants, that's brilliant!"

"It's funny until you're on the receiving end of it," said Fred. "I'm practically a war hero."

Maisie's eyes were watering from laughter; she wiped the tears away. "Oh, thank you. I needed a good laugh. Everybody's so bloody serious, what with O.W.L.s and all."

"I bet Cedric's studying hard." Fred shuffled his notes into a messy pile.

"He's busy all the time. I hardly see him except at practice, or if I want to sit and study with him."

"He needs to learn to show a girl a good time."

"No, he's great," Maisie said. "Hogsmeade was lovely. He's just busy right now. And it's not like I'm sitting around waiting for him."

"Yeah, I can't see you sitting around waiting for anybody."

Maisie squinted. "I don't get it."

"Don't get what?"

"The joke."

"That wasn't a joke. Not everything has to be like a game, Mays. I just don't see you as the kind of girl who waits around for a guy. That's all."

"Oh. Thanks?"

"Sure."

Tibby appeared with a heavily laden tea tray. "Snacks for the Hufflepuffs!"

"Thanks, Tibby." Maisie eyed the tray; it looked very heavy. "Hey, Fred, I'm working on my Potions essay in the common room. I could bring it in here, and we could work on it together, if you like."

"Would you? You'd keep me from failing if anybody could, Mays."

The rest of Maisie's friends came back to the kitchen, too. The house elves kept tea and snacks coming; in the end, none of them were hungry for dinner.

The usual dinnertime chatter filled Maisie's ears, but something about it felt wrong. She listened in on the second-years next to her.

"I'm appalled nothing's been done," Ernie Macmillan said. "Potter's clearly the one. He's been at the scene of the crime every single time, _and_ he speaks Parselmouth! That's what Slytherin was known for!"

"I don't know, Ernie," said Hannah Abbott. "Harry's…nice, you know?"

"Malfoy doesn't think he's so great," said Wayne Hopkins.

Susan Bones snorted. "Malfoy doesn't like anybody. He's even mean to Hannah!"

"But who else could it be?" Ernie insisted. "You saw him try and sic that snake on Justin at the Dueling Club—and what happened the next day? Justin was attacked!"

"He wasn't the only person attacked," Susan pointed out.

Maisie felt compelled to interject: "Look, guys, I know Harry. We've spent some time together. I don't think he's capable of what you're suggesting."

"Then who's the Heir of Slytherin?" Ernie said.

"Gosh, I don't know," said Maisie. "Maybe—somebody in Slytherin? They all come from old magical families. They're blood snobs. It makes sense."

"Yes, but who?" said Ernie insistently.

"I don't know!" said Maisie. "Obviously they're keeping it a secret! It's called the bloody Chamber of Secrets, Ernie!"

"Whoa, whoa." Cedric laid a hand on Maisie's arm. "It's okay."

"No, it's not!" said Maisie. "We can't falsely accuse people of petrifying their classmates!"

Ernie's round face was pale. "The evidence is kind of damning, don't you think?"

"Circumstantial at best," said Cedric. "There's no reason the Heir of Slytherin _has_ to be a Parselmouth. And Harry…I mean, the kid doesn't have the best, luck, right? Wrong place at the wrong time?"

"Three times?" said Ernie, but without much verve.

"Harry's a good kid," said Maisie. "He wouldn't do that to people."

"If you say so." Ernie was clearly eager to drop the subject.

"Mays," said Cedric, "are you looking forward to our match with Gryffindor?"

"Absolutely." Maisie allowed herself to be distracted; she felt bad for scaring Ernie. "I always look forward to hitting the twins with Bludgers."

"As long as you keep their Bludgers off me, I'm good," said Bryony.


	13. Year 4: May 8, 1993

In the week leading up to the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor Quidditch match, the prank war between Maisie Wood and the Weasley twins escalated until it was considered hazardous to walk the corridors. Lee Jordan joked that the prank war was taken more seriously than Slytherin's monster, which earned him a detention from Professor McGonagall.

Maisie was hit in the face with a Fanged Frisbee on Wednesday, and missed Quidditch practice because she was in the hospital wing. Despite Madam Pomfrey's best efforts, the cut over her eye scarred. Cedric Diggory stormed up to the Gryffindor table at dinner.

"You could have seriously maimed her!"

Lee chimed in: "They _did_ maim her! She'll bear that scar for the rest of her life!"

"Don't make jokes, Lee!" said Cedric. His face was red, his dark hair more disheveled than usual.

Fred made a calming gesture with both hands. "We're sorry, Cedric. It's all in good fun, but things got a little out of hand—"

" _A little out of hand?"_

"We went too far this time," said George. "We realize that."

"Maisie's not too mad, is she?" said Fred. "We were going to go see her after dinner."

"She's livid!" Cedric said. "Spitting nails!"

Fred blanched. "Never thought she'd take it like that. Maybe we'd better go up now, Georgie."

"Yeah, all right." George was watching Cedric closely. "What did she say exactly, Cedric?"

"She was raving about Quidditch and the two of you spoiling our chances," said Cedric, "and quite frankly, I think she's right. This whole thing is an enormous distraction."

"We'll call a truce tonight, okay, Cedric?" said George. "Scout's honor."

Appeased, but not fully satisfied, Cedric retreated to the Hufflepuff table. The twins scarfed their pudding and raced to the hospital wing, taking with them an enormous floral centerpiece from the table.

Maisie was sitting up, unbandaged and eating soup, when the twins barged in. She was so startled by their entrance that she spilled hot soup on herself.

"Merlin's beard!" Maisie dabbed ineffectually at herself with a towel. "Why can't you two just walk, like normal people?"

"Cedric told us you were in a towering rage and needed to be pacified immediately." Fred set the flowers carefully on Maisie's nightstand. "Please don't be mad, Mays."

Maisie laughed. "I'm not mad at you! If Filch hadn't confiscated my Fanged Frisbees last week I'd have done the same thing! But I missed practice, and Watson was running a new drill!"

For a moment, the twins were at a loss. Then George laughed uproariously.

"I knew you weren't mad at us! It's not like you!" he said. "Oh, but you should've seen Cedric's face!"

Maisie gasped. "Oh, no! I didn't realize he'd taken me so seriously! I kept damning the pair of you, and I guess he took it—"

"Way too seriously, yeah." Fred found his voice. "Tell your boyfriend to learn to take a joke, Maisie."

George collapsed on Maisie's bed. Both were laughing so hard they could hardly breathe.

"He's not—my—" Maisie wheezed.

"Boyfriend? What is he, then? You spend every spare hour together. We all saw him kiss you on Valentine's Day." Fred's face was hot. "C'mon, Mays, don't be stupid."

Maisie stopped laughing abruptly. "Oh, shit. Do I have a boyfriend?"

"That depends." George was still chuckling. "Are you in the habit of kissing your friends?"

"You know I'm not." Maisie's face was cherry red.

"You don't go on dates with Lee or me, do you?" said George.

Maisie chuckled. "Well, when you put it like that—"

"Have you talked to Cedric about this?" said Fred. "What does he think you are?"

"I don't know." Maisie took an enormous mouthful of soup.

"I reckon he feels a bit, ah, proprietary," said George mildly, "considering the way he yelled at us during dinner."

Maisie swallowed too quickly and coughed. "He didn't! That's embarrassing. I'll talk to him. I can fight my own battles."

"We know you can, Mays," said George. "I've had bruises to prove it."

Maisie punched him on the arm.

Maisie was back in fighting shape by Friday morning. Watson showed her the new Beater drill, and she practiced relentlessly with Owen until Friday afternoon. They rushed back to the common room to work on an essay for McGonagall and tumbled into bed by ten, at Watson's insistence. But Maisie lay awake for hours, fretting over the essay.

Cedric fussed over Maisie's breakfast plate, insisting that she take an extra sausage. Maisie, keeping in mind George's comments, quietly took the sausage.

The Hufflepuff team tramped down to the Quidditch pitch in high spirits.

"This is the best we've looked all year," said Cedric. "We've got a real chance against Gryffindor!"

Maisie doubted it: Harry Potter was an exceptional Seeker, and the Hufflepuff Chasers, good as they were, were no match for Maisie's brother. But she kept her comments to herself. It promised to be an excellent game.

The Hufflepuff team walked onto the pitch first, to tumultuous applause from their own section and scattered cheers from the Ravenclaw and Slytherin stands (given the choice between Gryffindor and anyone else, Slytherins always rooted against Gryffindor).

Maisie wanted to do a warm-up flight, as Oliver was doing, but Watson called the team into a huddle.

"Remember what we talked about," he said. "Beaters will focus attacks on the Chasers and Keeper—"

"I really think we shouldn't risk penalties," Maisie said, but Watson ignored her.

"Chasers, you've been drilling evasive maneuvers. _Use them._ The Gryffindor Chasers are fast, but if—"

The crowd fell ominously silent. The Hufflepuffs turned to look: Professor McGonagall was half-running across the pitch, clutching a giant purple megaphone.

"Now what?" Watson grumbled.

"This match has been canceled." McGonagall's voice reverberated through the stadium.

Oliver landed immediately. "But, Professor! The Cup!"

McGonagall ignored him. "All students are to make their way back to their House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"

There was an uproar in the stands. Maisie distinctly heard Lee Jordan cursing.

Cedric grabbed her elbow. "We'd better go. McGonagall wouldn't cancel a match unless it was important."

Maisie wrenched her arm out of his grip. "I want to talk to my brother."

The pitch was swarming with students coming out of the stands. There was much grumbling, but it was tinged with worry.

"Ollie!"

"All right, Mays?" Oliver patted her shoulder absently. "Shame about the match. I was really looking forward to playing you again."

"There will be other matches, Ollie," Maisie said. "Be careful, okay?"

"You too, Mays."

The twins converged on Maisie.

"What d'you reckon?" said Fred.

"No idea," said Maisie. "You don't think—"

"There was another attack?" George sighed. "Merlin's beard, I hope not. Still—be careful, Mays."

"We'll be fine," said Maisie. "Whatever's happened, it's already happened."

Bryony seized Maisie's hand, and they followed the flow of the crowd back into the castle. Cedric, Leah, and the other prefects stood by the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, counting heads.

"There you are! You ran off and I got worried," said Cedric.

"I wanted to check on my brother."

"No need to check on him," said Cedric confidently. "He's fine, right?"

"Of course," said Maisie.

The Hufflepuffs gathered anxiously in the common room. The team was still in their Quidditch robes, clutching broomsticks.

"It's another attack!" Ernie Macmillan said. "Can't be anything else, can it? Why else would McGonagall cancel a Gryffindor match?"

"Quiet, Macmillan," said Leah sharply.

Tense minutes passed. Jimmy kept up a light stream of nervous chatter about classes. There was talk of starting a game of Exploding Snap, but nobody moved. Bryony chewed obsessively on her thumbnail.

Finally, the round door to the common room swung open, and Professor Sprout appeared. She was pale, and her hat—normally slightly askew—was nearly falling off her head. The room fell silent immediately.

"I'm afraid I have rather grave news," said Professor Sprout. "Firstly, there has been another attack. Two students have been Petrified."

"Who is it?" said Archie Ford.

"Penelope Clearwater, of Ravenclaw, and Hermione Granger of Gryffindor."

Maisie's breath caught in her throat. Ron and Harry will be devastated, she thought.

"There is more, I'm afraid," said Professor Sprout. "Mr. Hagrid has been arrested."

"What?" cried several people.

"What the hell for?" said Owen loudly.

Professor Sprout gave Owen a stern look. "The Ministry holds him responsible for the attacks. He faced similar charges the last time such things happened at Hogwarts."

"The last time the Chamber was open, she means," Bryony murmured.

Others around the room were making similar comments. Professor Sprout raised her hand for silence.

"As I said, the Ministry holds Mr. Hagrid responsible. I shall leave you to make your own judgments. There is one more thing." She swallowed visibly. "Professor Dumbledore has been asked to step down as Headmaster."

There was a raucous outcry.

"They can't be serious!" shouted Owen.

"Who could keep us safer than Dumbledore?" said Archie Ford.

Professor Sprout made no move to quiet them. When the commotion lessened, she said, "The board of school governors has imposed a strict curfew. All evening activities—Quidditch and such—have been canceled. Everyone must return to the common room at six o'clock and remain there until breakfast time. There will be no late-night kitchen excursions." She fixed Hufflepuff with her sternest glare, which rivaled one of McGonagall's. "I am counting on you to keep each other safe. Take no unnecessary risks, you understand? I will come get you when it is time for tea."

When Sprout left, the common room exploded into intense discussion:

"Anybody notice how no Slytherins have been attacked?" said Archie.

"Figures it was our match against Gryffindor that got canceled," Owen grumbled. "I was looking forward to watching them get pummeled."

"Well, at least we can rule Potter out as the attacker," said Ernie Macmillan. "Granger is a friend of his. No way he'd attack her."

"Besides that," said Maisie, "Harry was on the pitch with the rest of us. He couldn't have done. He wouldn't have done it."

Ernie ducked his head and said nothing.


	14. Year 4: May 29, 1993

"Ginny Weasley."

The name echoed through the halls of Hogwarts, spoken in tragic whispers. Ginny Weasley had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets. It seemed highly likely that she was already dead.

Maisie couldn't sit still. She paced the perimeter of the common room.

"Come sit, Mays," Owen urged her. "Play a round of Exploding Snap. There's nothing we can do."

Ginny Weasley, Maisie thought. I hardly know her, but she's George and Fred's little sister. She's so quiet around me; what was she thinking about? Six older brothers…what's that like? I should have talked to her more…Fred and George must be devastated. And Ron…he's lost his best friend and his sister.

Not lost, she reminded herself. Hermione will wake up. And Ginny…there is hope. The professors will do something. They must be so upset. I should—they're my friends.

She sidled toward the entrance to the common room. Nobody looked up. Without a word, Maisie slipped out the door and into the basement corridor.

Gryffindor Tower was several floors away. Teachers and prefects were patrolling the halls, and Maisie didn't know how to get into the Gryffindor common room. Nevertheless, she made her way up through the corridors, wand drawn. She probably didn't stand much chance against Slytherin's monster, but maybe it was preoccupied with its guest.

She reached the fifth floor without incident but had to duck into an empty classroom to avoid Professor Flitwick on patrol. There was another narrow escape, this time from Professor Snape, on the seventh floor. Finally, Maisie stood in front of the painting she knew marked the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.

The fat woman in the painting eyed Maisie disdainfully. "Password?"

"Um," said Maisie. "Godric?"

"Incorrect."

"Valor? Chivalry? Nerve? Daring?"

The fat lady sighed. "All wrong. You're not in Gryffindor House, and students are not supposed to be out of their dormitories. What's to stop me reporting you? I could scream, right now, and three professors would come running."

"Please don't do that! I'm going."

Maisie walked away from the fat lady, feeling downcast. She'd come so far already, and it would be just as dangerous to get back to the Hufflepuff common room…

Someone was coming. Maisie ducked behind a potted fern, cursing her own stupidity.

It was Percy Weasley. He was walking very fast, head down and muttering to himself: "How could it—not my fault—attacked a prefect—poor Ginny—"

He passed Maisie without looking up and halted in front of the fat lady's portrait.

"Password?"

"Wattlebird," said Percy.

There was a loud creaking. Maisie peered cautiously around the potted plant; the portrait was swinging backwards into the wall. Percy clambered through the opening, and the portrait swung shut again.

Thinking quickly, Maisie ripped off her Hufflepuff tie and yellow-trimmed robes and stuffed them into the potted plant. She undid her braids and let her hair fall into her face. With luck, the Fat Lady wouldn't recognize her.

Maisie boldly approached the portrait again.

The Fat Lady eyed her suspiciously. "You shouldn't be out here right now."

"I know." Maisie pitched her voice slightly higher than normal and kept her eyes on the ground. "I had to send word to my family. Can I get in, please?"

"What's the password?"

"Wattlebird."

"Correct." The Fat Lady swung open, revealing a roundish hole in the wall not unlike the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room.

"Thank you!" said Maisie fervently, and clambered through the hole. Pushing her hair away from her face, she stepped boldly into a round room furnished in crimson and gold.

Maisie's appearance caused a hush to fall over the common room. Dozens of faces, many of them unfamiliar, stared at Maisie in astonishment.

"Isn't that the Hufflepuff Beater? What the hell is she doing here?" said a sixth-year.

"How'd she get in?" said Kenneth Towler indignantly.

Oliver stormed across the common room. "Maisie?! What the _absolute fuck_ were you thinking? Wandering the castle alone? Dumbledore gone, some monster on the loose, teachers patrolling the corridors—what would I tell Mum—something could've happened—detention would've been the best thing—how could you take such a risk? What the fuck is wrong with you?" He was nearly shouting by the end of this tirade. Most Gryffindors looked amused rather than judging.

"I came to sit with you," said Maisie simply. "Ginny's my friend, too."

It was a slight exaggeration, at best, but it took the wind out of Oliver's sails. He gave Maisie a tight hug.

"Thank God you made it here safely."

When Oliver pulled away, the twins were there.

"You came," said Fred in a choked voice.

"This was stupid, you know that?" said George, hugging Maisie. "It's not safe, Mays."

"I know." Maisie's voice was muffled by George's chest. "But I couldn't stand the thought of you sitting here alone."

Ron and Harry were sitting in an alcove near the enormous fireplace. There was hardly room for the five of them together. Maisie sat wedged between Fred and George. Each of the twins held one of Maisie's hands clutched in both of theirs.

After ten minutes of this, Maisie said, "Can I scratch my nose, please?"

The tension broke slightly as Ron and Harry chuckled. George loosened his grip on Maisie's hand, and she scratched her nose.

They sat like that until after sundown. It was past dinnertime, and Maisie's stomach growled, but she didn't much feel like eating. Anyway, there was no food.

The silence in the common room was oppressive. Maisie would have liked to be there under different circumstances, for it was a beautiful, comfortable room. The fireplace was smaller than Hufflepuff's, but the cushy armchairs in front of it were cozy and inviting.

Finally, George sighed heavily, and said, "I can't take this anymore. I'm going to bed."

"It's only seven," Maisie said.

"What about Maisie?" said Fred.

"What do you mean?"

"She can't walk back alone. Doing it once was stupid enough, and that was in broad daylight. What if—" Fred didn't finish his sentence.

"You're right." George looked thoughtful. "So what do we do with her?"

"I'm right here, George," said Maisie tersely.

"Right, sorry."

"She could take Hermione's bed," Ron suggested.

Maisie hesitated. She didn't know the other second-year Gryffindor girls, and it might be awkward.

Fred shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous, Ron. You'll stay with us, Mays. We'll put our bedclothes on the floor and have a proper camp-out."

"There's no girls allowed in our dorm!" said Ron.

"C'mon, Ronnie, what's the harm?" said Fred. "Besides, it's us you came to see, isn't it, Mays?"

"'Course it is."

"It's settled, then."

When Maisie entered the fourth-year boys' dormitory, wearing Fred's spare pajamas, Lee was exultant.

"Just like when were kids, Mays! Isn't this great!" Lee added his pillows and blankets to the pile on the floor. "Remember when we used to tell ghost stories?"

Maisie shuddered. "All too well."

"What say you to a ghost story tonight, Lee?" said George.

"Aren't we living a ghost story right now?" Fred snapped. "Kids missing, people dying—"

"Nobody's dead, Fred," said Maisie firmly. "Only Petrified."

No one said Ginny's name, but they were all wondering.

"Something else, then," said Lee brightly. "Exploding Snap?"

"Not on your life," groaned Kenneth Towler from his bed. "Let me sleep!"

"Could you really sleep, Towler, with everything that's going on?" said George. "C'mon, join us."

They sat up past midnight playing cards—the non-exploding kind. Maisie and the twins taught the others Muggle card games. Kenneth Towler turned out to be a poker fiend; by the end, they each owed him several Sickles.

When they tired of cards, they told stories. Lee knew Beadle the Bard's stories by heart, and Maisie chimed in with stories from her childhood, or Muggle fairytales she'd learned. The twins were uncharacteristically silent, but they smiled whenever Lee or Maisie cracked a joke.

Finally, sometime after midnight, they quieted. Maisie was curled up between Fred and Lee, who had fallen asleep. Fred, however, was staring at the ceiling.

Maisie wished she knew what to do or say. She settled for snuggling closer to Fred and resting her head on his shoulder.

"We're here," she whispered.

Fred sighed. "Thanks for not saying 'it'll be all right.'"

"Most of it will definitely be all right," Maisie said. "Pippa will wake up tomorrow, and Hermione. We'll tell Pippa about your birthday party, and the time you turned Lockhart's robes black."

"And you can tell her about Cedric."

Maisie smiled into the dark. Fred rested his cheek on her hair and sighed. Maisie felt his warm breath on her face. It was very comfortable, laying with Fred like that. Things with Fred had always felt very comfortable, Maisie thought with a surge of warmth. She patted his chest affectionately. Fred's breath hitched, as if he were trying to maintain his composure. He put his hand on top of Maisie's and squeezed.

"I wish Percy could've seen you come into the common room," said George wistfully. "He would have been absolutely appalled that a mere Hufflepuff penetrated the sanctity of Gryffindor Tower!"

Maisie wrinkled her nose. "Penetrated?"

Fred chuckled. "We'll surprise him tomorrow morning. Make sure he sees you in the common room before we go to breakfast." He let go Maisie's hand, which suddenly felt cold.

"He'll report me," said Maisie, "and give me detention. Take house points, et cetera."

"Who even cares about house points anymore?" said George. "After all this."

"Not me," said Fred. "Though I was bummed to miss our Quidditch match against you, Mays. It's always fun to try and hit you with a solid object at high speeds."

"Likewise."

"Shut up, you lot," groaned Kenneth Towler.

Maisie and the twins giggled. Lee snored loudly.

"He's faking," said Maisie knowledgably.

"Is he?" said George. "He makes those noises every night."

"Yeah," said Maisie. "He's always hoping to scare the shit out of somebody. He tried it on me for years, but who's going to believe a snoring eight-year-old?"

"Another eight-year-old?" said Fred.

"Not a chance," said Maisie. She reached over and thumped Lee soundly on the chest. He sat up sharply, gasping for air.

"What the hell, Mays?" Lee wheezed.

"Told you," said Maisie.

"That proves nothing," said Fred. "That would've woken anyone from a sound sleep. We should've said something like, 'Lee Jordan eats worms.'"

"But that's true," said Maisie.

Now it was Lee's turn to thump Maisie.

"Ow!"

"Lee, don't hurt the lady!" said George in an affronted tone.

"I said, shut up!" said Towler.

There was a noise on the stairs. The boys fell silent immediately. Fred threw a blanket over Maisie's head just as the door opened.

"Get up," said Percy's voice. "We've all been summoned to the Great Hall. …Did you build a blanket fort in here?"

Maisie popped up from the blankets, grinning maniacally. "Surprise, Perce!"

Percy squealed. "Maisie Wood, the nerve of you! Twenty points from Hufflepuff for trespassing in another House's dormitory, let alone a _boys'_ dormitory! I will be speaking to Professor Sprout! Now come on, to the Great Hall, now! Professor Dumbledore's orders!"

"Dumbledore!" The twins scrambled to their feet. Fred held out his hand to help Maisie up.

There was a mad rush to the Great Hall. Maisie's presence among the Gryffindors went unremarked-on. The Hall was decked out in all four House colors, and the tables were piled high with food.

"What time is it?" said Maisie.

Lee checked his watch. "Nearly two. What the hell?"

It was the most joyful feast Maisie had ever been to. Dumbledore told the whole school what had happened: Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had gone down into the Chamber of Secrets, defeated Slytherin's monster, and rescued Ginny Weasley.

Petrification victims were revived, and appeared at the feast to widespread cheers. Maisie and Bryony ran halfway across the hall and nearly knocked Pippa over with their hugs.

"Hi, hi! Yes, I'm fine!" said Pippa. "Thank you for the cards and flowers, they were lovely! Maisie…what the hell are you wearing?"

Maisie looked down. She was wearing bright orange boys' pajamas, a size too big, with the letter F emblazoned on the breast pocket.

Maisie grinned. "We've got a lot to tell you, Pip."


	15. Year 4: June 19, 1993

Pippa bought snacks and treats for all her friends, despite their avid protests.

"It's the least I can do, after you all sent me those lovely cards and flowers." Pippa handed the trolley witch a handful of Sickles. "Mays, here are your Peppermint Toads."

Maisie loved Peppermint Toads, and she'd spent the last of her pocket money trying to prank the Weasleys back in May. She mutely accepted the package and tore it open with her teeth to let the squirming toads hop straight into her mouth.

Cedric watched this with some disgust. "Why do you eat them like that?"

"How else should I eat them?" said Maisie through a mouthful of chocolate. She pinched the opening in the package shut so no more toads could escape.

"One at a time?"

"And where's the fun in that?"

Owen and Jimmy were tossing Jelly Slugs into each other's mouths. Jasper sat by the window, happily chewing on licorice wands. Bryony and Pippa were sharing a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Maisie's heart swelled with affection for them all. It was such a relief to see Pippa alive and well, talking and laughing with the others.

"It's too bad about Kettleburn," said Jasper.

"I wonder who'll replace him?" said Maisie.

"Dumbledore will find someone good," Cedric said. "Even if he doesn't, we all learned enough from Kettleburn to get through our O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s okay."

"It's not exams I'm worried about," said Owen. "Care of Magical Creatures was like the one class I actually liked! What if the new professor is like Binns, or Snape?"

"At least with Snape, we still learn stuff," said Maisie. "Binns is dull as rocks. I don't remember a single thing from four years of his classes."

"At least Kettleburn went out with a bang," said Bryony. "Those dragon hatchlings were awesome!"

"It was cool to see Charlie again," Maisie said.

"I'm surprised Dumbledore allowed him to bring dragons onto campus," Cedric said.

"I'm not." Maisie chuckled. "Dumbledore does whatever he wants, right? And he loves Charlie."

"Besides," said Pippa, "Charlie said that hatchlings were 'barely dangerous.'"

"Tell that to his co-workers," said Owen. "Did you _see_ the burn on that one guy's face?"

"Yes, Owen, we all saw it," said Bryony. "It was right on his face."

"Lee said a hatchling bit Pucey," Maisie said. "He went up to the hospital wing with a bloody arm."

"Serves him right," said Bryony.

They were nearly halfway through their train ride when Cedric nudged Maisie and said, "I want to have a meeting of the Quidditch team. Can you get Bryony and the others and meet me at the end of the train?"

"Yeah, all right."

"What gives him the right to call a meeting?" Owen said as they made their way down the train.

"It's obvious," said Bryony. "Cedric's going to be Quidditch Captain, with Watson gone."

"Thank God," said Jimmy quietly.

Cedric was waiting at the back of the train with Archie, Callum, and Leah.

"Can't we squeeze into a compartment?" said Leah. "I hate crowding in the corridor like this."

"We won't be long," said Cedric. "I just wanted to tell you that Watson recommended me for Quidditch Captain, and there's no reason that Sprout would disagree with him."

"Well done, Ced." Archie clapped him on the back. "Knew it would be you, didn't we?"

Maisie realized, Archie will be a seventh-year. Why isn't he the new Captain? He's not serious enough, she thought. He's a great Chaser, but he's too quick to make a joke. It's the same reason Fred or George will never be Quidditch Captain.

"I intend to keep the lineup the same next year," Cedric said, "but I'm required to have tryouts, so make sure you stay in shape this summer. We're going to have a great team next year. I have some ideas for strategies and drills that Watson never considered."

Owen whooped.

Cedric cleared his throat. "That's all I wanted to say. Have a great summer, everyone."

They awkwardly edged their way back down the corridor. Archie, Callum, and Leah all disappeared into different compartments. Cedric gently touched Maisie on the elbow, letting the others get ahead.

"Can I talk to you for a minute, Maisie?"

Something in his tone made Maisie's stomach drop like a stone. "Um, yeah. Sure."

"I'm going to be Quidditch Captain next year."

"Yes, I know." Maisie grinned. "Congratulations. I can't think of anyone more deserving of it."

"Thanks. That means a lot. And I'm still a prefect, and I'm hoping to be made Head Boy."

"Again: I can't think of anybody better for the job."

Cedric sighed. "And I'll be starting N.E.W.T. classes next year. It's going to be a lot."

"Yeah, it is," said Maisie warily.

"The Ministry is doing a special administration of O.W.L.s this summer, because of all the…trouble at school this year," said Cedric. "I'm going to study as hard as I can for the next three weeks. I need top grades if I'm going to be an Auror."

"Do you really want that?" said Maisie. "Or is that just what your dad wants?"

"Does it matter?" Cedric shrugged. "I'll figure it out later. Point is, Maisie, I'm going to be incredibly busy this summer and next year."

"Yes, you are."

"You're fantastic, Mays, really. I've had such a wonderful time with you this spring. I'll never forget it."

There was a lump of Maisie's throat. "I think I know where you're going with this, Cedric."

"I just want…I don't want you to feel neglected. I'd rather you…find somebody else, or have all your time to spend with your friends. And your O.W.L.s are next year, too. You'll need to focus on that."

"You'd rather I find somebody else?"

Cedric sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No…but I won't have the time to…treat you as well as I'd like. I'm sorry, Mays, I really am."

"I see." Maisie pursed her lips and thought: he's breaking up with me. He says he won't have time for me, so he's breaking up with me. She blinked away tears.

"Aw, Mays, please don't…"

"I'm not. Thanks for being honest with me, Cedric. I'll see you around." Maisie pushed past him and hurried after Bryony, Owen, and Jimmy. She caught up with them at the door to their compartment, just as tears started rolling down her face in earnest.

"Maisie, there you—what happened?" Bryony wrapped her arm around Maisie. "Did Cedric say something to you?"

"He'd better not've. I'll jinx him till his ears fall off." Owen groped in his robes for his wand.

"No, Owen," said Bryony firmly. "Don't do that. Sit down, Maisie, and tell us what happened."

"We'll go," Jimmy said. "C'mon, Owen, Jasper. Let's find Lee and the twins."

"You don't need to go," said Maisie shakily. "I've got nothing to hide."

"But you'll want to talk to your girls." Jimmy practically pushed Owen out the door.

Pippa and Bryony sat on either side of Maisie. Pippa laid her head on Maisie's shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"Did he say why?" said Bryony. "I didn't know anything was wrong between you."

"Nothing was wrong!" Maisie choked on a sob. "I had no idea! But he said…he said that he'll be busy next year, and he'd rather…he'd rather I 'find somebody else' who has time for me. Time for me! Like I'm a…chore or…" She buried her head in Bryony's shoulder and sobbed.

"Of course he doesn't think that," said Bryony soothingly. "Cedric is a good guy, Mays. The last thing he wants is to hurt you."

"But he did hurt me!" said Maisie. "We were happy, everything was good…why did do that?"

"Think of it from his perspective, Mays," said Pippa. "He's going to be incredibly busy next year. There'll be a lot on his shoulders."

"What, so he…got rid of the extra weight?"

"Cedric cares about you," said Pippa. "It'd've torn him up to know he was neglecting you. Better to hurt you now, and fast, then drag it out and hurt you slowly."

Maisie didn't want to hear any of this. She wanted to crawl under the seats and never come out. Bryony and Pippa seemed to understand this and sat in silence with her for the rest of the train ride, handing her candy. When the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross Station, they made sure her tears were dry and stood protectively around her on the platform until Oliver found her.

"There you are, Mays." Oliver got a good look at her face. "What's wrong?"

"She'll tell you later," said Bryony firmly. "Write to me this summer, Maisie, okay? Please?"

"Of course." It was the first time Maisie had spoken in hours.

"Me, too," said Pippa. "I feel like I missed so much while I was…asleep."

Bryony chuckled. "That's right, Pip. You took the world's longest nap and missed half the school year."

"I've had that nightmare before," said Oliver. "I dreamed that I missed all the Quidditch matches."

"If only that were true," said Bryony. "Then we might actually get to score on Gryffindor!"

Oliver laughed. "You should be so lucky!"

 **A/N: Thanks for reading, everybody! Views and reviews give me joy. Expect quicker updates from now on, because I made it past a block in Prisoner of Azkaban. I'm really excited to share the next installment with y'all, which will cover PoA and GoF (it will be a looong fic, so get ready for that).**


	16. Summer 1993: A Pleasant Time

Weeks passed, and Maisie recovered from her first heartbreak. Pippa and Bryony bombarded her with letters, and she eventually had to concede their point: it was better to hurt now than to have her breakup with Cedric dragged out over weeks because he was too busy to spend time with her.

It was a hot, lazy summer. Maisie spent many days swimming in the pond, drilling Quidditch with Oliver and the Weasleys, and reading Muggle novels in her window seat.

The twins now shared Maisie's appreciation for Muggle literature. They joined her in a scheme to obtain Muggle library cards in the tiny Ottery St. Catchpole library. "Scheme" turned out to be an overstatement; the librarian recognized them from the grocery store in town and handed over cards without question. Disappointed, the twins and Maisie signed their library cards with fake names: Fabian Weatherby, Jocelyn Longbottom, and Kenneth P. Fowler.

Maisie often spent the afternoon at the Burrow after Quidditch practice. Today, she lounged across Fred's bed with a copy of _East of Eden._ Fred himself was on the floor, propped up on his elbows, engrossed in _Two Years Before the Mast._ George was on his own bed, leaning against the wall with a pillow behind his head, reading _Tuck Everlasting._

"How do you like the book, George?" said Maisie.

"It's incredible! The things Muggles come up with! Living forever isn't so different from real magic, is it?"

"No magic can make somebody live forever," said Fred. "Mays, you should read this one next. Did you know that Muggles hunt _whales_?"

"You're joking!" said George. "Couldn't the whale just smash their boat with its tail?"

"Muggles have really big boats," Fred said, "so no, not usually. But the Muggles go out in tiny boats to get near the whales, and _those_ get smashed with tails all the time."

"It's incredible to me," said Maisie, "that I hadn't even heard of a whale until I took Muggle Studies. What other animals don't we know about? What secrets are Muggles keeping?"

"The Muggles aren't keeping secrets," said George. "We are."

"What if we didn't?" said Maisie. "What if we all shared our knowledge with each other? Muggle medicine can't do all the things that a Healer can, but—"

"Are you insane?" said Fred. "Break the International Statute of Secrecy? The Muggles wouldn't embrace us, Mays, they'd be terrified!"

"Why should they be? We're people, too."

"They won't see it that way," said George. "They'll see a threat to their society. We can control minds, we have spells that can kill and cause immense pain…not to mention all the dangerous plants and creatures. Can you imagine if the Muggles knew about giants, or dragons?"

Maisie pursed her lips. "You may be right."

"May be." Fred snorted.

Ron poked his head in. "Still reading? I don't understand you lot at all. Care for a game of Quidditch?"

"Isn't it almost dinnertime?" said George.

"Exploding Snap, then." Ron huffed. "I'm _bored._ "

Fred waved his book in the air. "Literature is the magic that kills boredom, Ronnie. Join us."

Sighing heavily, Ron came into the room and took one of the books at random. " _To Kill A Mockingbird?_ Do Muggles like to kill birds?"

"It's a metaphor, Ron," said Fred witheringly. "Read it and find out."

Another hour passed in pleasant silence. Maisie was nearly halfway done with _East of Eden._ It was slow going; not much was happening. But the descriptions of American Muggles were fascinating.

"Boys!" Mrs. Weasley called up the stairs. "Your father will be home soon, and dinner's nearly ready!"

Fred groaned. "But I'm just getting to the good part!" He didn't say it loudly enough for Mrs. Weasley to hear, though.

They tumbled downstairs, jostling each other. Mrs. Weasley was elbows-deep in a pan of bread dough.

"Maisie! I didn't realize you were still here, dear. Won't you stay for dinner?"

"I don't want to impose," said Maisie, as she always did.

"Nonsense! Send Errol to your parents. Tell them I said it's all right."

The Weasley kitchen bustled with activity. Mrs. Weasley was an accomplished culinary witch, in contrast to Dad, who preferred to do many things by hand. Within minutes, there was an enormous tureen of onion soup, a loaf of golden bread, a dish of butter, and a summer salad on the table. The five Weasley children and Maisie hovered eagerly around the table.

Mrs. Weasley watched the clock on the wall. "Ah! Your father will be home soon."

Maisie had never looked closely at this clock before. It had nine hands, one for each of the Weasleys, and the places around its face had labels like "work," "traveling," or "sick." Mr. Weasley's hand, the longest, was pointed at "traveling." Moments later, it said "home," and Mr. Weasley himself walked through the back door, scraping mud off his shoes.

"Hello, family!" Mr. Weasley beamed at them all. "And Maisie! What a pleasant surprise!" He was clutching a golden envelope to his chest. "Sit, all of you! I have a marvelous announcement!"

When they were all seated, Mr. Weasley brandished his golden envelope. "You're all familiar with the _Daily Prophet_ Grand Prize Galleon Draw?" He didn't wait for any response: "Well, I entered it on a whim, and I've won! A thousand Galleons!"

Mrs. Weasley shrieked, throwing her hands in the air. "Arthur! You aren't serious! A thousand Galleons?"

Ron's mouth was agape; that seemed to be more money than he could imagine. Fred and George whooped and high-fived Maisie, Ginny, and each other. Percy gasped theatrically.

"Father, really? A thousand Galleons?"

"A thousand Galleons!" Mr. Weasley beamed.

"Congratulations, Mr. Weasley!" Maisie couldn't think of any family more deserving of the money.

"Oh, my goodness!" Mrs. Weasley put her hand to her heart. "I can hardly breathe! Arthur, this changes everything! Why, we can go see Bill!"

"All of us?" George perked up. "Are we going to Egypt, Mum?"

"It's just what we've wanted," said Mrs. Weasley. "Bill hasn't been home since he got that job—your father and I have gotten to see him for a few Christmases, but none of you have seen him…it's perfect!"

"We're going to see the pyramids!" said Fred.

"And, of course, we'll get Ron a new wand." Mrs. Weasley ruffled her youngest son's hair. "'Distinguished Services to the School' merits a new wand, I'd say."

Ron's face turned bright red, but he looked pleased.

"If I hear about 'distinguished services' one more time, I'm going to puke," Fred muttered to Maisie.

"You're not jealous, are you?" said Maisie. "That your little brother went down into the Chamber of Secrets and battled Slytherin's monster while you were snug in your bed?"

"I wasn't snug in my bed, I was playing poker with you."

"Oh, right."

"I just get tired of hearing about it, is all," said Fred. "All our brothers have gotten some award or other—prefect, Head Boy, Distinguished Services. What're we known for?"

"Giving us all a good laugh," said Maisie. "That's much better than some stuffy old medal."

Mrs. Weasley brought out a strawberry cake. Maisie worried that she was overstaying her welcome, but she was happy to celebrate the Weasleys' good luck with them. They were her favorite family besides her own, and they deserved the world as far as she was concerned.

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! And thanks to those who have reviewed so far-I love to hear what y'all are thinking!  
**


	17. Summer 1993: A Going-Away

The Woods threw a going-away party for the Weasleys and invited all the wizarding families in the neighborhood, including the Diggorys. Maisie hadn't spoken to Cedric since their train ride home. For weeks she'd been very angry and hurt. She wasn't angry anymore, but she dreaded the awkwardness.

As the time of the party drew near, Dad and Mum grew more frenzied. Dad worried that the garden was not fit for guests, even though everything was blooming and pruned within an inch of its life. The charm on the garden fountain had been refreshed: the nymph danced in her basin of water, and every flick of her hair and arms showered more water into the fountain, sometimes splashing out of the bowl.

The enormous flagstone kitchen was scrubbed until it shone, the broom sweeping the fireplace on its own while Mum rushed about laying out dishes and glasses. Maisie and Oliver tidied the living room, though it seemed unlikely that anyone would use it on such a lovely day.

The Weasley family arrived first. Mrs. Weasley brought a raspberry trifle.

"Molly, you didn't have to do that!" said Mum breathlessly.

"It's no trouble, dear. I didn't feel quite right coming without something to share," said Mrs. Weasley. "Can I help?"

"No," said Mum firmly, "everything is ready. Please, have some punch and relax."

Mum had strictly forbidden Quidditch during the party, so Maisie and Oliver started a game of Exploding Snap in the living room. Ron, Ginny, and the twins joined in, but Percy held himself aloof.

"Thinks it's not fitting for a Head Boy," George said.

Maisie gasped. "Percy's Head Boy?"

"Yes, and he's being bloody insufferable about it." Ron rolled his eyes. "Wears the badge around the house, as if that gives him more right to tell me to wash my socks."

"To be fair, Ron, your socks reek," said Fred.

The two Lovegoods arrived soon after that, bringing a tureen of their infamous freshwater plimpy soup. Luna Lovegood was Ginny's age, but she was uninterested in Exploding Snap.

"I thought I might explore your garden," she said. "Daddy says you've got mooncalves. You know their saliva has divinatory properties?"

"Divinatory, you say?" The corner of George's mouth twitched.

"I'll come with you, Luna." Ginny glared at her brothers.

Maisie set down her cards. "We'll all go."

They went out to the barnyard, and Maisie showed her guests the family's mooncalf herd and their small flock of diricrawls. Ginny was particularly enraptured by the diricrawls, which popped in and out around the barnyard.

"What keeps them in there?" said Fred. "Why don't they just Apparate out and leave?"

"They like it here," said Maisie, "but there are charms on the barnyard—I don't know which ones, Dad won't tell me."

They spent a pleasant half-hour watching the animals. Maisie fetched treats for the mooncalves, who kept nibbling at her sleeves, which of course made the diricrawls want food, too. Their attempts to Apparate across the fence were hilarious; it was rather like watching feathery balls bounce against glass.

When they walked into the front garden for dinner, Cedric was there with his parents and young sisters. He smiled when he saw them and gave an awkward little wave.

This is it, Maisie thought. "All right, Cedric?" she said.

Fred and George threw her surprised glances, but Cedric grinned.

"Yeah, Mays. You?"

"All right, thanks. Did you get something to drink?"

"I did, cheers. Good to see you, Fred, George."

The twins nodded curtly. Cedric wilted slightly.

"Cedric!" Oliver shook hands and clapped him on the back. "Heard you've been made Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain! Well done!"

"Thanks, Oliver." The smile returned to Cedric's face. "Looking forward to our match against you. You've given me so great ideas for training exercises over the years."

Oliver laughed ruefully. "I knew playing Quidditch with Hufflepuffs was a bad idea! I've given away all our secrets!"

"C'mon, Ollie, it was all in good fun," said Maisie.

"No, Mays, it was strategy," said Fred. "We've been studying your every move for years."

"Every since our first day at Hogwarts," said George, "we've thought: how can we use Maisie Wood to better our Quidditch game?"

Maisie gasped. "Are you telling me that our entire friendship has been based on a lie?"

"Yes," said Fred with a straight face. "And now the truth is out."

They ate dinner on the lawn. The neatly set table inside remained unused. They stuffed themselves with Dad's cooking, and watched the fireflies come out as the sun set.

After dinner, Dad and Oliver lit a bonfire, and they gathered around it to roast marshmallows and make s'mores, a Muggle treat Pippa had shown Maisie.

"These are amazing!" said Cedric with his mouth full. "What's in these white gooey things?"

"They're called marshmallows, and I've no idea," Maisie said. "You should ask Pippa."

"Muggles are incredible." Fred looked at his s'more reverently. "I'd like to personally thank the Muggle who invented s'mores."

It was nearly eleven by the time the guests started to leave.

"We're taking a special Floo connection to Bill's office in Egypt in two days," said Mr. Weasley. "Gringotts arranged the whole thing. They like Bill, and they're good to him."

"You must be proud," said Dad.

Mrs. Weasley approached Maisie. "While we're gone, Maisie dear, I'd appreciate it if you look in on our house. The plants will want watering—twice a week, unless it's really dry—and the garden will need to be de-gnomed at least once while we're gone. I hope it's not too much bother."

"Not at all, Mrs. Weasley," said Maisie. "I'd be happy to do it."

"Good girl." Mrs. Weasley patted her cheek. "Take care, and we'll see you when we get back."

"Say, Mays—Maisie, will you do me a favor?" said Ron.

"Um, sure." Maisie had no idea what favor Ron Weasley might ask her for.

"Would you write to Harry? I don't reckon he gets much mail, and those Muggles—"

"Say no more. I'll do it."

Ron grinned. "Thanks. I'd write him while we're away, but it's a bit far for Errol to fly."

The twins converged on Maisie and scooped her up in a hug that lifted her feet off the ground.

"Guys!" Maisie kicked her feet in midair. "Put me down!"

"Be good while we're gone, Mays," said Fred.

"Don't do anything we wouldn't do," said George.

Maisie laughed. "There's not much overlap there, guys."

"Why, Maisie, are you implying that we are never good?" said Fred. "I take offense to that."

"Yeah!" said George. "What about all those times we _didn't_ get detention?"

"Why, because you weren't caught?" Maisie laughed.

The twins unceremoniously dropped Maisie on the ground.

"Ouch!"

"Oops! Sorry, Mays!" said Fred.

"It's fine." Maisie smiled up at the twins, who were taller than her these days. "Have a good trip, guys. I want to hear all about it when you get back."

Fred grinned. "You can count on it."

 **A/N: Thanks so much for reading! That's the end of this installment. The next one will cover Prisoner of Azkaban and Goblet of Fire. The title will be some derivation of the line from the Sorting Hat's song: "Those patient Hufflepuffs are true." Coming soon!**


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